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PAUL  HAMILTON  HAYNE 
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DUKE  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 
DURHAM,  N.  C. 


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SALATHIEL; 


OR, 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


REV.  DR.  CROIiY,  AUTHOR  OF  SALATHIEIi. 


This  gentleman  is  a native  of  Ireland,  and  was  edu- 
cated at  Trinity  College,  Dublin.  He  is  a correct  and 
eloquent  poet  and  prose-writer:  his  poetical  works  are 
•*  Paris  in  1815 “ The  Angel  of  the  World “ Gems 
from  the  Antique,”  &c.  Dr.  Croly  has  also  edited,  with 
excellent  judgment,  a volume  of  Selections  from  the 
British  Poets.  Among  his  many  prose  works  are  “ Sa- 
lathiel,”  a romance  founded  on  the  old  legend  of  “the 
Wandering  Jew,”  and  displaying  the  most  powerful 
bursts  of  eloquence  throughout  its  pages.  Several  years 
since,  too,  Dr.  Croly  published  a comedy,  entitled — 
“Pride  Shall  Have  a Fall,”  which  was  performed  for 


several  nights,  jvith  great  applause,  at  Covent  Garden 
Theatre,  and  was  universally  admired  for  its  unsparing 
ridicule  of  the  follies  of  the  day.  “ A Life  of  Burke,** 
and  the  “ Personal  History  of  George  IV.,”  are  among 
Dr.  Croly’s  biographical  works ; and  a volume  of  the 
“Apocalypse  of  St.  John,”  attests  his  erudite  research- 
es. He  is  at  present  engaged  in  writing  the  descriptions 
of  Mr.  Robert’s  splendid  “Illustrations  of  the  Holy 
Land,”  &c. 

Dr.  Croly  is  recter  of  St.  Stephen’s,  Walbrook  ; his 
style  of  preaching  is  characterised  by  impressive  elo- 
quence. 


S ALATHIEL; 


OR, 


THE  WANDERING  JEW: 


THE  PAST,  THE  PRESENT,  AND  THE  FCTCRE. 


AUTHOR  OF  " LIFE  AND  TIMES  OF  GEORGE  THE  FOURTH,”  “ APOCALYPSE  OF  ST.  JOHN,” 


“ TARRY  THOU,  TILL  I COME.” — Salathiel , the  Wandering  Jew. 

I wandered  to  the  deserts  of  Arabia  ; I joined  a caravan  journeying  towards  the  holy  city— it  lost  its  way 
— hunger  and  thirst  tortured  us,  and  put  a brand,  as  it  were,  of  hot  iron  upon  our  lips.  My  companions  fell 
around  me  upon  the  burning  sand,  our  beasts  of  burden  sank  to  rise  no  more,  the  simoom  blew  its  poisoned 
breath  over  the  parched  and  verdureless  earth  ; the  sun’s  heat  dried  the  blood  in  my  veins.  I did  not  die,  but  I 
suffered  alive  that  which  killed  my  fellow-travellers.  The  elephant  trampled  me  under  his  ftet  ; fhe  tiger 
gnawed  my  flesh  with  his  iron  teeth  ; the  anaconda  drew  his  mighty  folds  around  my  limbs,  but  in  vain  did 
they  mangle  me  ; a voice  from  above  cried,  ‘Live,  Salathiel,  live  l Pursue  thy  endless  journey.  On— on— oa 
— forever  I*  ” — Salathiel , the  Wandering  Jew. 


A STORY  OF 


BY  THE  REV-  GEORGE  CROLY, 


ETC.,  ETC. 


Complete  in  Cne  Volume* 


$ tv  1 1 a 0 e l p ft  i a : 

T.  B.  PETERSON,  No.  98  CHESNUT  STREET. 

1850. 


PREFACE. 


There  has  appeared  from  time  to  time  in  Europe,  during  the 
last  thousand  years,  a mysterious  individual,  a sojourner  in  all 
lands,  yet  a citizen  of  none ; professing  the  profoundest  secrets  of 
opulence,  yet  generally  living  in  a state  of  poverty ; astonishing 
every  one  by  the  vigor  of  his  recollections,  and  the  evidence  of 
his  close  and  living  intercourse  with  the  eminent  characters  and 
events  of  every  age,  yet  connected  with  none — without  lineage, 
or  possession,  or  pursuit  on  earth — a wanderer  and  unhappy. 

A number  of  histories  have  been  invented  for  him;  some  purely 
fictitious,  others  founded  on  ill-understood  records.  Germany, 
the  land  of  mysticism,  where  men  labor  to  think  all  facts  ima- 
ginary, and  turn  all  imaginations  into  facts,  has  toiled  most  in 
this  idle  perversion  of  truth.  Yet  those  narratives  have  been  in 
general  but  a few  pages,  feebly  founded  on  the  single,  fatal  sen- 
tence of  his  punishment  for  an  indignity  offered  to  the  Great 
Author  of  the  Christian  faith. 

That  exile  lives;  that  most  afflicted  of  the  people  of  affliction, 
yet  walks  this  earth ; bearing  the  sorrows  of  eighteen  centuries 
on  his  brow, — withering  in  soul  with  remorse  for  the  guilt  of  an 
hour  of  madness.  He  has  long  borne  the  scoff  in  silence  ; he  has 
heard  his  princely  rank  degraded  to  that  of  a menial,  and  heard 
without  a murmur  ; he  has  heard  his  unhappy  offence  charged  to 
deliberate  malice  and  cruelty,  when  it  was  but  the  misfortune  of 
a zeal  blinded  and  inflamed  by  the  prejudices  of  his  nation  ; and 
he  has  bowed  to  the  calumny  as  a portion  of  his  punishment. 
But  the  time  of  this  forbearance  is  no  more.  He  feels  himself  at 
last  wearing  away  ; and  feels,  with  a sensation  like  that  of  return- 
ing to  the  common  fates  of  mankind,  a desire  to  stand  clear  with 
his  fellow-men.  In  their  presence  he  will  never  move  again. 
To  their  justice,  or  their  mercy,  he  will  never  again  appeal.  The 
wound  of  his  soul  rests,  never  again  to  be  disclosed  y until  that 
day  when  all  things  shall  be  summoned  and  be  known. 

/ In  his  final  retreat  he  has  collected  these  materials.  He  has 
concealed  nothing,  he  has  dissembled  nothing;  the  picture  of  his 
hopes  and  fears,  his  weakness  and  his  sorrows,  is  stamped  here 
with  sacred  sincerity. 

Other  narratives  may  be  more  specious  or  eloquent ; but  this 
narrative  has  the  supreme  merit  of  truth ; it  is  the  most  true — 
it  is  the  only  true. 


SALATHIEL 


CHAPTER  I. 

“ Tarry  thou,  till  i come.”  The  words 
6hot  through  me — I felt  them  like  an  arrow 
in  my  heart — my  brain  whirled — my  eyes 
grew  dim.  The  troops,  the  priests,  the  popu- 
lace, the  ’world  passed  away  from  before  my 
senses  like  phantoms. 

But  my  mind  had  a horrible  clearness.  As 
if  the  veil  that  separates  the  visible  and  in- 
visible worlds  had  been  rent  in  sunder,  I saw 
shapes  and  signs  for  which  mortal  language 
has  no  name.  The  whole  expanse  of  the  fu- 
ture spread  under  my  mental  gaze  in  dread- 
ful vision.  A preternatural  light,  a new 
power  of  mind  seemed  to  have  been  poured 
into  my  being.  I saw  at  once  the  full  guilt 
of  my  crime — the  fierce  folly — the  mad  in- 
gratitude— the  desperate  profanation.  I lived 
over  again  in  frightful  distinctness  every  act 
and  instant  of  the  night  of  my  unspeakable 
sacrilege.  I saw,  as  if  written  with  a sun- 
beam, the  countless  injuries,  that  in  the  rage 
of  bigotry  I had  accumulated  upon  the  vic- 
tim ; the  bitter  mockeries  that  I had  devised ; 
the  cruel  tauntings  that  my  lips  had  taught 
the  rabble  ; the  pitiless  malignity  that  had 
forbidden  them  to  discover  a trace  of  virtue 
where  all  virtue  was.  The  blows  of  the 
scourge  still  sounded  in  my  ears.  Every 
drop  of  the  innocent  blood  rose  up  in  judg- 
ment before  me. 

Accursed  be  the  night  in  which  I fell  be- 
fore the  tempter ! Blotted  out  from  time  and 
eternity  be  the  hour  in  which  I took  part  with 
the  torturers.  Every  fibre  of  my  frame  qui- 
vers, every  drop  of  my  blood  curdles,  as  I still 
hear  the  echo  of  the  anathema  that  on  the 
night  of  woe  sprang  first  from  my  furious  lips, 
the  self-pronounced  ruin,  the  words  of  desola- 
tion, “His  blood  be  upon  us,  and  upon  our 

CHILDREN  !” 

I had  headed  the  multitude : where  others 
shrank,  I urged  ; where  others  pitied,  I re- 
viled, and  inflamed  ; I scoffed  at  the  feeble 
malice  of  the  priesthood  ; I scoffed  at  the 
tardy  cruelty  of  the  Roman ; I swept  away 
by  menace  and  by  scorn  the  human  reluct- 
ance of  the  few  who  dreaded  to  dip  their 
hands  in  blood.  Thinking  to  do  God  service, 
and  substituting  my  passions  for  my  God,  I 
threw  firebrands  on  the  hearts  of  a rash,  jeal- 
ous, and  bigoted  people.  I triumphed  ! 


In  a deed  which  ought  to  have  covered 
earth  with  lamentation,  which  was  to  make 
angels  weep,  which  might  have  shaken  the 
universe  into  dust,  I triumphed!  The  de- 
cree was  passed : but  my  frenzy  was  not  so 
to  be  satiated.  I loathed  the  light  while  the 
victim  lived.  Under  the  penalty  of  treason 
to  Caesar,  I demanded  instant  execution  of  the 
sentence.  “ Not  a day  of  life  must  be  given,” 
I exclaimed;  “notan  hour; — death,  on  the 
instant;  death  !”  My  clamor  was  echoed  by 
the  roar  of  millions. 

But,  in  the  moment  of  my  exultation,  I 
was  stricken.  In  the  acclamation  of  the 
multitude  came  forth  the  command.  He 
who  had  refused  an  hour  of  life  to  the  victim, 
was  in  terrible  retribution  condemned  to  know 
the  misery  of  life  interminable.  I heard 
through  all  the  voices  of  Jerusalem — I should 
have  heard  through  all  the  the  thunders  of 
heaven — the  calm  low  voice,  “ Tarry  thou, 
till  I come !” 

I felt  my  fate  at  once.  I sprang  away 
through  the  shouting  hosts,  as  if  the  aveng- 
ing angel  waved  his  sword  above  my  head. 
Wild  songs,  furious  execrations,  the  rude  up- 
roar of  myriads  stirred  to  the  heights  of  popu 
lar  passion,  filled  the  air  ; still  through  all  I 
heard  the  pursuing  sentence,  “ Tarry  thou, 
till  I come,”  and  felt  it  to  be  the  sentence  of 
incurable  agony  ! I was  never  to  know  the 
shelter  of  the  grave. 

Immortality  on  earth  ! — The  perpetual  com- 
pulsion of  existence  in  a world  made  for 
change;  to  feel  the  weariness  of  thousands 
of  years  bowing  down  my  wretched  head ; 
alienated  from  all  the  hopes,  enjoyment,  and 
pursuits  of  man,  to  bear  the  heaviness  of  that 
existence,  which  palls  even  with  all  the 
stimulants  of  the  most  vivid  career  of  man  ; 
life  passionless,  exhausted,  melancholy,  old  : 
I would  rather  have  been  blown  about  on  the 
storms  of  every  region  of  the  universe.  I 
was  to  be  a wild  beast,  and  a wild  beast  con- 
demned to  pace  the  same  eternal  cage  ! A 
criminal  bound  to  the  floor  of  his  dungeon 
forever. 

Immortality  on  earth ! — I was  now  in  the 
vigor  of  life  ; but  must  it  be  always  so  1 Must 
not  pain,  feebleness,  the  loss  of  mind,  the  sad 
decay  of  all  the  resources  of  the  human  being, 
be  the  natural  result  of  time?  Might  I not 
sink  into  the  perpetual  sick  bed,  hopeless  de- 


f A O 


2 


Salat  hiel. 


crepitude,  pain  without  cure  or  relaxation, 
the  extremities  of  famine,  of  disease,  of  mad- 
ness!— yet  this  was  to  be  borne  for  ages  of 
ages ! 

Immortality  on  earth  ! — Separation  from 
all  that  cheers  and  ennobles  life ; I was  to 
survive  my  country ; to  see  the  soil  dear  to 
my  heart  violated  by  the  feet  of  barbarians 
yet  unborn.  Her  sacred  monuments,  her  tro- 
phies, her  tombs,  a scoff  and  a spoil ; without 
a resting  spot  to  the  sole  of  my  feet,  I was  to 
witness  the  slave,  the  man  of  blood,  the  sav- 
age of  the  desert,  the  furious  infidel,  rioting 
in  my  inheritance,  digging  up  the  bones  of 
mv  fathers,  trampling  on  the  holy  ruins  of 
Jerusalem ! 

I was  to  feel  the  still  keener  misery  of  sur- 
viving all  that  I loved ; wife,  child,  friend, 
even  to  the  last  being  with  whom  my  heart 
could  imagine  a human  bond,  all  that  bore  a 
drop  of  my  blood  in  their  veins,  were  to  perish 
in  my  sight,  and  I was  to  stand  on  the  verge 
of  the  perpetual  grave,  without  the  power  to 
seek  its  refuge.  If  new  affections  could  ever 
wind  their  way  into  my  closed  up  and  frozen 
bosom,  it  must  be  only  to  fill  it  with  new  sor- 
rows; for  those  I loved  must  still  be  torn  from 
me.  In  the  world  I must  remain,  and  remain 
alone ! 

Immortality  on  earth  ! — The  grave  that 
closes  on  the  sinner,  closes  on  his  sin.  His 
weight  of  offence  is  fixed.  No  new  guilt 
can  gather  on  him  there.  But  I was  to  know 
no  limit  to  the  weight  that  was  already  crush- 
ing me.  The  guilt  of  life  upon  life,  the  sur- 
ges of  an  unfathomable  ocean  of  crime  were  to 
roll  in  eternal  progress  over  my  head.  If 
the  judgment  of  the  great  day  was  terrible 
to  him  who  had  passed  but  through  the  com- 
mon measure  of  existence,  what  must  be  its 
terrors  to  the  wretch  who  was  to  appear  load- 
ed with  the  accumulated  guilt  of  a thousand 
lives  1 

Overwhelmed  with  despair,  I rushed 
through  Jerusalem,  with  scarcely  a con- 
sciousness of  whither  F was  going.  It  was 
the  time  of  the  Passover,  when  the  city  was 
crowded  with  the  multitude  come  to  the  great 
festival  of  the  year.  I felt  an  instinctive  hor- 
ror of  the  human  countenance,  and  shunned 
every  avenue  by  which  the  tribes  came  in.  I 
at  last  found  myself  at  the  Gate  of  Zion,  that 
leads  southward  into  the  open  country.  I had 
then  no  eyes  for  that  wondrous  portal  which 
had  exhausted  the  skill  of  the  most  famous  Io- 
nian sculptors,  the  master-work  of  Herod  the 
Great.  But  I vainly  tried  to  force  my  wild  way 
through  the  crowds  that  lingered  on  their 
march  to  gaze  upon  its  matchless  beauty  ; 
portal  alone  worthy  of  the  wonders  to  which 
it  led,  like  the  glory  of  an  evening  cloud 
opening  to  lead  the  eye  upwards  to  the  stars. 

On  those  days  the  Roman  guard  were 


withdrawn ; I ascended  the  battlements  to 
seek  another  escape  ; but  the  concourse  gath- 
ered there,  to  look  upon  the  entrance  of  the 
tribes,  fixed  me  to  the  spot.  Of  all  the  strange 
and  magnificent  sights  of  Earth,  this  entrance 
was  the  most  fitted  to  swell  the  national  pride 
of  country  and  religion.  The  dispersion  or- 
dained by  Heaven  for  judgment  on  the  crimes 
of  our  idolatrous  kings,  had,  in  that  wonder- 
working power  by  which  good  is  brought  out 
of  evil,  planted  our  law  in  the  remotest  ex- 
tremities of  the  world.  Among  its  proselytes 
were  the  mighty  of  all  regions,  the  military 
leaders,  the  sages,  the  kings;  all  at  least 
once  in  their  lives,  coming  to  pay  homage  to 
the  great  central  city  of  the  faith*,  and  all 
coining  with  the  pomp  and  attendance  of 
their  rank.  The  procession  amounted  to  a 
inumber  which  threw  all  after-times  into  the 
shade.  Three  millions  of  people  have  been 
counted  at  the  Passover.  The  diversities  of 
the  multitude  were  still  more  striking.  Every 
race  of  mankind,  in  its  most  marked  peculiari- 
ties, there  passed  beneath  the  eye. 

There  came  the  long  train  of  swarthy 
slaves  and  menials  round  the  chariot  of  the 
Indian  prince,  clothed  in  the  silks  and  jewels 
of  the  regions  beyond  the  Ganges.  Upon 
them  pressed  the  troop  of  African  lion-hun- 
ters, half-naked,  but  with  their  black  limbs 
wreathed  with  pearl  and  fragments  of  un- 
wrought gold.  Behind  them  moved  on  their 
camels  a patriarchal  group,  the  Arab  Sheik, 
a venerable  figure  with  his  white  locks  flow- 
ing from  beneath  his  turban,  leading  his  sons, 
like  our  father  Abraham,  from  the  wilderness 
to  the  Mount  of  Vision.  Then  rolled  on  the 
glittering  chariot  of  the  Assyrian  chieftain,  a 
regal  show  of  purple  and  gems,  and  convoyed 
by  horsemen  covered  with  armor.  The  Scy- 
thian Jews,  wrapped  in  the  furs  of  wolf  and 
bear,  iron  men  of  the  north : the  noble  Greek, 
the  perfection  of  the  human  form,  with  his 
countenance  beaming  the  genius  and  beauty 
of  his  country  : the  broad  and  yellow  features 
of  the  Chinese  rabbins;  the  fair  skins  and 
gigantic  forms  of  the  German  tribes  ; strange 
clusters  of  men  unknown  to  the  limits  of  Eu- 
rope or  Asia,  with  their  black  locks,  com- 
plexions of  the  color  of  gold,  and  slight  yet 
sinewy  limbs,  marked  with  figures  of  suns 
and  stars  stuck  into  the  flesh  ; marched  crowd 
on  crowd  ; and  in  strong  contrast  with  all, 
the  Italian  on  the  charger  or  in  the  chariot, 
urging  the  living  stream  to  the  right  and  left, 
with  the  haughtiness  of  the  acknowledged 
master  of  mankind.  The  representative 
world  was  before  me. 

But  all  those  distinctive  marks  of  country 
and  pursuit,  though  palpably  ineradicable  by 
human  means,  were  deeply  overpowered  and 
mingled  by  the  one  grand  inpression  of  the 
I place  and  the  time.  In  their  presence  was 


Salat  hid. 


3 


the  City  of  Holiness ; the  Hill  of  Zion  lifted 
up  its  palaces ; above  it  ascended,  like  another 
city,  in  a higher  region  of  the  air,  the  Tem- 
ple, to  whose  majesty  the  world  could  show 
no  equal,  to  which  the  eyes  of  the  believer 
were  turned  from  the  uttermost,  parts  of  earth, 
in  whose  courts  Solomon,  the  king  of  earthly 
kings  for  wisdom,  had  called  down  the  bless- 
ing of  the  Most  High,  and  it  had  descended 
on  the  altar  in  fire ; in  whose  sanctuary  the 
Lord,  whom  heaven  and  the  heaven  of  hea- 
vens cannot  contain,  was  yet  to  make  his 
throne,  and  give  glory  to  his  people. 

Oh  Jerusalem,  Jerusalem  ! when  I think 
of  what  I saw  thee  then,  and  of  what  I have 
since  seen  thee,  the  spoiled,  the  desolate,  the 
utterly  put  to  shame ; when  I have  seen  the 
Roman  plough  driven  through  the  soil  on 
which  stood  the  Holy  of  Holies;  the  Saracen 
destroying  even  its  ruins;  the  last,  worst  de- 
vastator, the  barbarian  of  the  Caucasus,  the 
ruffian  Turk,  sitting  in  grim  scorn  upon  the 
towers  of  the  city  of  David ; violating  the 
tombs  of  the  prophet  and  the  king;  turning 
up  for  plunder  the  soil,  every  blade  of  whose 
grass,  every  atom  of  whose  dust,  was  sacred 
to  the  broken  people  of  Israel : trampling 
with  savage  cruelty,  and  the  deeper  torture 
of  infidel  insult,  my  countrymen  that  lingered 
among  its  walls  only  that  they  might  seek  a 
grave  in  the  ashes  of  the  mighty ; I have 
felt  my  spirit  uproused,  and  maddened  within 
me.  I have  made  impious  wishes.  I have 
longed  for  the  lightning  to  blast  the  tyrant. 
I still  start  from  my  bed  when  I hear  the 
whirlwind,  and  send  forth  fierce  prayers  that 
its  rage  may  be  poured  on  the  tents  of  the 
oppressor.  I unconsciously  tear  away  my 
white  locks,  and  scatter  them  in  bitterness 
of  soul  towards  the  east.  In  the  wildness 
of  the  moment,  I have  imagined  every  cloud 
that  sailed  along  the  night  a minister  of  the 
descending  vengeance.  I have  seen  it  a 
throne  of  terrible  shapes  flying  on  the  wings 
of  the  wind,  majestic  spirits  and  kings  of 
wrath  hurrying  through  the  heavens  to  pour 
down  sulphureous  hail  and  fire,  as  upon  the 
cities  of  the  Dead  Sea.  I have  cried  out 
with  our  prophet,  as  the  vision  swept  along, 
“ Who  is  he  that  cometh  from  Edom?  with 
dyed  garments  from  Bozra?  he  that  is  glo- 
rious in  his  apparel,  travelling  in  the  great- 
ness of  his  strength?  Wherefore  art  thou 
red  in  thine  apparel,  and  thy  garments,  like 
him  that  treadeth  the  wine-press?”  and  I 
have  thought  "that  I heard  the  answer:  “I, 
that  speak  in  righteousness,  mighty  to  saue  ! 
I will  tread  them  in  rpine  anger,  and  trample 
them  in  my  fury,  and  their  blood  shall  be 
sprinkled  upon  my  garments,  and  I will  stain 
all  my  raiment : for  the  day  of  vengeance  is 
in  mine  heart,  and  the  year  of  my  redeemed 
is  come  l” 


Then,  when  the  impulse  passed  away,  and 
my  heart  withered  within  me,  my  eyes  have 
turned  into  fountains  of  tears,  and  I have 
wept  until  morning  came,  and  the  sounds  of 
the  world  called  back  its  recollections,  and 
for  the  sacred  hills  and  valleys  that  I had 
imagined  in  the  darkness,  I saw  only  the 
roofs  of  some  melancholy  city,  in  which  I was 
a forlorn  fugitive ; or  a wilderness,  with  but 
the  burning  sands  and  the  robber  before  me: 
or  found  myself  tossing  on  the  ocean,  not 
more  fruitless  than  my  heart,  nor  more  rest- 
less than  my  life,  nor  more  unfathomable 
than  my  woe.  Yet,  to  the  last  will  I hope 
and  love.  Oh  Jerusalem!  Jerusalem!  even 
in  my  mirth,  I will  not  forget  thee ! 

But  those  were  the  thoughts  of  after-times. 
On  that  memorable  and  dreadful  day,  I had 
no  perception  but  of  some  undefinable  fate, 
which  was  to  banish  me  from  mankind.  I at 
length  forced  my  way  through  the  pressure 
at  the  gate,  turned  to  none  of  the  kinsmen 
who  called  to  me  as  I passed  their  chariots 
and  horses,  overthrew  with  desperate  and 
sudden  strength  all  who  impeded  my  pro- 
gress, and  scarcely  felt  the  ground  till  I had 
left  the  city  behind,  and  had  climbed  up 
through  rocks  and  ruins  the  mountain  that 
rose  drearily  before  me,  like  a barrier  shutting 
out  the  living  world. 


CHAPTER  II. 

Terror  had  exhausted  me  : and  throwing 
myself  on  the  ground,  under  the  shade  of  the 
stunted  grove  of  palm-trees  that  thinly 
crowned  the  summit  of  the  hill,  I fell  into  an 
almost  instant  slumber.  But  it  was  unre- 
freshing and  disturbed.  The  events  of  the 
day  again  came  before  me,  strangely  mingled 
with  those  of  my  past  life,  and  with  others  of 
which  I could  form  no  waking  remembrance. 
I saw  myself  sometimes  debased  below  man  ; 
like  the  great  Assyrian  king,  driven  out  to 
feed  upon  the  herb  of  the  forest,  and  wrander 
for  years  exposed  to  the  scorching  sun  by 
day,  and  the  dews  that  sank  chilling  upon  my 
naked  frame  by  night.  I then  seemed  filled 
with  supernatural  power,  and  rose  on  wings 
till  earth  was  diminished  beneath  me,  and  I 
felt  myself  fearfully  alone.  Yet  there  was 
one  predominant  sensation,  that  all  this  was 
for  punishment,  and  that  it  was  to  be  perpet- 
ual. At  length,  in  one  of  my  imaginary 
flights,  I found  myself  whirled  on  the  wind, 
like  a swimmer  down  a cataract,  in  helpless 
terror  into  the  bosom  of  a thunder-cloud.  I 
felt  the  weight  of  the  rolling  vapors  around 
me ; I saw  the  blaze ; I was  stunned  by  a 
roar  that  shook  the  firmament. 

My  eyes  suddenly  opened,  yet  my  dream 


4 


Salathiel. 


appeared  only  to  be  realized  by  my  waking. 
Thick  clouds  of  heavy  and  heated  vapor  were 
rapidly  rolling  up  from  the  precipices  below  ; 
and  at  intervals  a sound  that  I could  not  dis- 
tinguish from  distant  thunder,  burst  on  the 
wind.  But  the  sun  was  bright,  and  the  hori- 
zon was  the  dazzling  blue  of  the  eastern  hea- 
ven. As  my  senses  slowly  returned,  for  I 
felt  like  a man  overpowered  with  wine,  and 
a sudden  rush  of  blood  across  my  sight  made 
me  dread  that  I was  growing  blind,  I was 
unable  to  discover  where  1 was.  The  dis- 
covery itself  was  terror.  I had  in  my  dis- 
traction fled  to  the  mountain  on  which  no 
Jew  ever  looked  without  shame  and  sorrow 
for  the  crimes  of  the  greatest  king  into 
whose  nostrils  the  Almighty  ever  poured  the 
spirit  of  life,  but  which  a Jewish  priest, 
as  I was,  could  not  touch  without  being 
guilty  of  defilement.  I sat  on  the  Mount  of 
Corruption,  so  called  from  its  having  once 
witnessed  the  idolatries  of  our  mighty  Solo- 
mon, when  in  his  old  age  he  gave  way  to  the 
persuasions  of  his  heathen  wives — that  irre- 
parable crime  for  which  the  kingdom  was  rent, 
and  the  strength  of  Israel  scattered.  I saw 
in  the  hollows  of  the  nill  the  spaces,  still 
bearing  the  marks  of  burning,  and  barren 
forever,  on  which  the  temples  of  Moloch, 
Chemosh,  and  Ashtaroth,  had  lifted  their  im- 
pious magnificence,  in  the  sight  of  the  House 
of  the  living  God.  The  very  palm-trees  under 
which  I had  snatched  that  wild  and  bitter 
sleep,  were  the  remnant  of  the  groves  in 
which  the  foul  rites  of  the  goddesses  of  Phoe- 
nicia and  Assyria  once  filled  the  air  with 
midnight  abomination,  with  horrid  yells  of 
human  sacrifice,  almost  made  more  fearful 
by  their  mingling  with  the  roar  of  barbarian 
revel,  the  wild  dissonance  of  timbrel  and 
horn,  the  Bacchanalian  chorus  of  the  priest- 
hood and  people  of  impurity. 

The  vapors  that  rose  hot  and  sickly  before 
me,  were  the  smokes  from  the  fires  kindled 
in  the  valley  of  Hinnom,  where  the  refuse  of 
the  animals  slaughtered  for  the  use  of  the 
city,  and  the  other  pollutions  and  remnants 
of  things  abominable  to  the  Jew,  were  daily 
burned.  The  sullen  and  perpetual  fires,  the 
deadly  fumes,  and  the  aspects  of  the  degraded 
and  excluded  beings,  chiefly  public  criminals, 
who  were  employed  in  this  hideous  task  gave 
the  idea  of  the  place  of  final  evil.  Our  pro- 
phets, in  their  threats  against  the  national 
betrayers,  against  the  proud  and  the  self- 
willed,  the  polluted  with  idols,  and  the  pol- 
luted with  that  still  darker  and  more  incura- 
ble idolatry,  the  worship  of  the  world,  pointed 
to  the  valley  of  Hinnom  ! The  Pharisee, 
when  he  denounced  the  unbelief  and  luxury 
of  the  lordly  Sadducee,  pointed  to  the  valley 
of  Hinnom  ! All — the  Pharisee,  the  Essene, 
tire  Sadducee,  in  the  haughty  spirit  that  for- 


got the  fallen  state  of  Jerusalem,  and  the 
crimes  that  had  lowered  her; — the  hypocrite, 
the  bigot,  and  the  skeptic,  alike  mad  with 
hopeless  revenge,  when  they  saw  the  Roman 
cohorts  triumphing  with  their  idolatrous  en- 
signs through  the  paths  once  trod  by  the 
holy,  or  were  driven  aside  by  the  torrent  of 
cavalry,  and  the  gilded  chariot  on  which  sat 
some  insolent  proconsul  fresh  from  Italy,  and 
looking  down  on  the  noblest  of  our  people  as 
the  beaten  slaves  of  the  stranger — pointed  to 
the  valley  of  Hinnom  ! 

How  often,  as  the  days  of  Jerusalem  hur- 
ried towards  their  end,  and  by  some  fatality, 
the  violences  of  the  Roman  governors  became 
more  frequent  and  intolerable,  have  I seen 
the  groups  of  my  countrymen,  hunted  into 
some  by-way  of  the  city,  by  the  hoofs  of  the 
Roman  horse,  consuming  with  that  inward 
wrath  which  was  soon  to  flame  out  in  such 
horrors,  flinging  up  their  wild  hands,  as  if  to 
upbraid  the  tardy  heavens,  gnashing  their 
teeth,  and  with  the  strong  contortions  of  the 
oriental  countenance,  the  stormy  brow  and 
flashing  eye,  and  lip  scarcely  audible  from 
the  force  of  its  own  convulsion,  muttering 
conspiracy.  Then,  in  despair  of  shaking  off 
that  chain  which  had  bound  the  whole  earth, 
they  would  appeal  to  the  vengeance  of  the 
endless  future;  and  shrouding  their  heads  in 
their  cloaks,  stand  like  sorcerers  summoning 
up  demons,  each  with  his  quivering  hand 
stretched  out  towards  the  accursed  valley, 
and  every  tongue  groaning  “ Gehenna  1” 

While  I lay  upon  the  summit  of  the  moun- 
tain, in  a state  which  gave  me  the  deepest 
impression  that  I had  ever  conceived  of  the 
parting  of  soul  and  body,  I was  startled  by 
the  sound  of  a trumpet.  It  was  from  the 
temple,  which,  as  the  fires  below  sank  with 
the  growing  heat  of  the  day,  was  now  visible 
to  me.  The  trumpet  was  the  signal  of  the 
third  hour,  when  the  first  daily  sacrifice  was 
to  be  offered.  It  was  the  week  of  the  class 
of  Abiah,  of  which  I was,  and  this  day’s  ser- 
vice fell  to  me.  Though  I would  have  given 
all  that  I possessed  on  earth  to  be  allowed 
to  rest  upon  that  spot,  polluted  as  it  was, 
and  there  moulder  away  into  the  dust  and 
ashes  that  I had  made  my  bed ; 1 dared  not 
shrink  from  the  most  solemn  duty  of  the 
priesthood. 

I rose,  but  it  was  not  till  after  many  efforts 
that  I was  able  to  stand  ; my  limbs  had  a 
stony  weight  and  insensibility.  I struggled 
along  the  summit  of  the  ridge,  holding  by  the 
stems  of  the  palm-trees.  The  second  trum- 
pet sounded  loudly,  and  was  re-echoed  by  the 
cliffs.  I had  now  no  time  for  delay,  and  was 
about  to  spring  downwards  towards  a path 
which  wound  round  the  head  of  the  valley 
and  beyond  the  fires,  when  my  ears  were 
again  arrested  by  that  peal  that  had  disturbed 


Salathiel. 


5 


me  in  my  sleep,  and  my  glance,  which  com- 
manded the  whole  circuit  of  the  hills  round 
Jerusalem,  involuntarily  looked  for  the  thun- 
der-cloud. The  sky  was  without  a stain  ; but 
the  eminences  towards  the  west,  on  whose 
lovely  slopes  of  vineyard,  rose,  and  orange 
groves  my  eye  had  so  often  reposed,  as  on  a 
vast  Tyrian  carpet  tissued  with  purple  and 
gold,  were  now  hung  with  gloom ; a huge 
and  sullen  cloud  seemed  to  be  gathering  over 
the  heights,  and  flashes  and  gleams  of  malig- 
nant lustre  burst  from  its  bosom.  The  cloud 
deepened,  and  the  distant  murmur  grew  loud- 
er and  more  continued. 

I hurried  to  the  city  gate.  To  my  astonish- 
ment, I found  the  road,  that  I had  left  so  choked 
up  with  the  multitude,  almost  empty.  The 
camels  stood  tethered  in  long  trains  under 
the  trees,  with  scarcely  an  owner.  The  tents 
were  deserted,  except  by  children,  and  the 
few  old  persons  necessary  for  their  care.  The 
mules  and  horses  grazed  through  the  fields 
without  a keeper.  I saw  tents  full  of  the 
animals  and  other  offerings  that  the  tribes 
brought  up  to  the  great  feast,  almost  at  the 
mercy  of  any  hand  that  would  take  them 
away.  Where  could  the  myriads  have  dis- 
appeared, that  had  covered  the  land  a few 
hours  before  to  the  very  verge  of  the  hori- 
zon 1 

The  city  was  still  more  a subject  of  aston- 
ishment. A panic  might  have  driven  away 
the  concourse  of  strangers,  in  a time  when 
the  violences  of  the  Roman  sword  had  given 
every  Jew  but  too  frequent  cause  for  the 
most  sensitive  alarm.  But  all  within  the 
gate  was  equally  deserted.  The  streets 
were  utterly  stripped  of  the  regular  inhabi- 
tants. What  but  a pestilence  or  a massacre 
could  have  thus  extinguished  the  look  of  life 
in  one  of  the  most  active  and  populous  cities 
of  the  east  1 The  Roman  guards  were  al- 
most the  only  beings  that  I could  discover  in 
my  passage  of  the  long  streets  from  the  foot 
of  the  upper  city  to  the  mount  of  the  temple. 

All  this  was  favorable  to  my  extreme  anx- 
iety to  escape  every  eye  of  my  countrymen  ; 
yet  I cannot  tell  with  what  a throbbing  of 
heart,  and  variety  of  feverish  emotion,  1 at 
length  reached  the  threshold  of  my  dwelling. 
Though  young,  I was  a husband  and  a father. 
What  might  not  have  happened  since  the  sun- 
set of  the  evening  before  1 for  my  evil  doings, 
for  which  mav  He,  with  whom  mercy  lies 
at  the  right  hand  and  judgment  at  the  left, 
have  mercy  on  me,  had  fatally  occupied  the 
night.  I listened  at  the  door,  with  my  heart 
upon  my  lips.  1 dared  not  open  it.  My  sus- 
pense was  at  length  relieved  by  my  wife’s 
voice ; she  was  weeping.  I fell  on  my  knees, 
and  thanked  heaven  that  she  was  alive. 

But  my  infant ! I thought  of  the  sword 
that  smote  the  first-born  in  the  land  of  bond- 


age, and  felt  that  Judah,  guilty  as  Egypt, 
might  well  dread  its  punishment  Was  it 
for  my  first-born  that  the  sobs  of  its  angel 
mother  had  arisen  in  her  loneliness  1 Another 
pause  of  bitter  suspense — and  I heard  the 
laugh  of  my  babe  as  it  awoke  in  her  arms. 

The  first  human  sensation  that  I had  felt 
for  so  many  hours,  was  almost  overpowering ; 
and,  without  regarding  the  squalidness  of  my 
dress,  and  the  look  of  famine  and  fatigue  that 
must  have  betrayed  where  I had  been,  I 
should  have  Tushed  into  the  chamber.  But 
at  that  moment  the  third  trumpet  sounded. 
I had  now  no  time  for  the  things  of  this 
world.  I plunged  into  the  bath,  cleansed 
myself  from  the  pollution  of  the  mountain, 
hastily  girt  on  me  the  sacerdotal  tunic  and 
girdle;  and  with  the  sacred  fillet  on  my 
burning  brow,  and  the  censer  in  my  shaking 
hand,  passed  through  the  cloisters-,  and  took 
my  place  before  the  altar. 


CHAPTER  III. 

Of  all  the  labors  of  human  wealth  and 
power  devoted  to  worship,  the  temple  within 
whose  courts  I then  stood  was  the  most 
mighty.  In  my  after  years,  the  years  of  my 
unhappy  wanderings,  far  from  the  graves  of 
my  kindred,  I have  seen  all  the  most  famous 
shrines  of  the  great  kingdoms  of  idolatry. 
Constrained  by  cruel  circumstance,  and  the 
still  sterner  cruelty  of  man,  I have  stood  before 
the  altar  of  the  Ephesian  Diana,  the  master- 
piece of  Ionian  splendor ; I have  strayed 
through  the  woods  of  Delphi,  and  been  made 
a reluctant  witness  of  the  superb  mysteries 
of  that  chief  of  the  oracles  of  imposture. 
Dragged  in  chains,  I have  been  forced  to 
join  the  procession  round  the  Minerva  of  the 
Acropolis,  and  almost  forgot  my  chains  in 
wonder  at  that  monument  of  a genius  which 
ought  to  have  been  consecrated  only  to  the 
true  God  by  whom  it  was  given.  The  tem- 
ple of  the  Capitoline  Jove,  the  Sancta  Sophia 
of  the  Rome  of  Constantine,  the  still  more 
stupendous  and  costly  fabric  in  which  the 
third  Rome  still  bows  before  the  fisherman 
of  Galilee  ; all  have  been  known  to  my  step, 
that  knows  all  things  but  rest ; but  all  were 
dreams  and  shadows  to  the  grandeur,  the 
dazzling  beauty,  the  almost  unearthly  glory  of 
that  temple  which  once  covered  the  “ Mount 
of  Vision”  of  the  City  of  the  Lord. 

At  the  distance  of  almost  two  thousand 
years,  I have  its  image  on  my  mind’s  eye 
with  living  and  painful  fulness.  I see  the 
court  of  the  Gentiles  circling  the  whole;  a 
fortress  of  the  whitest  marble,  with  its  wall 
rising  six  hundred  feet  from  the  valley  ; its 
kingly  entrance,  worthy  of  the  fame  of  Solo- 


6 


Salathiel. 


mon  ; its  innumerable  and  stately  dwellings 
for  the  priests  and  officers  of  the  temple,  and 
above  them,  glittering  like  a succession  of 
diadems,  those  alabaster  porticoes  and  colon- 
nades in  which  the  chiefs  and  sages  of  Jeru- 
salem sat  teaching  the  people,  or  walked, 
breathing  the  pure  air,  and  gazing  on  the 
grandeur  of  a landscape  which  swept  the 
whole  amphitheatre  of  the  mountains.  I 
see,  rising  above  this  stupendous  boundary, 
the  court  of  the  Jewish  women,  separated  by 
its  porphyry  pillars  and  richly  sculptured 
wall ; above  this,  the  separated  court  of  the 
men;  still  higher,  the  court  of  the  priests; 
and  highest,  the  crowning  splendor  of  all, 
the  central  temple,  the  place  of  the  Sanc- 
tuary, and  of  the  Holy  of  Holies,  covered 
with  plates  of  gold,  its  roof  planted  with 
lofty  spear-heads  of  gold,  the  most  precious 
marbles  and  metals  every  where  flashing 
back  the  day,  till  Mount  Moriah  stood  forth 
to  the  eye  of  the  stranger  approaching  Jeru- 
salem, what  it  had  been  so  often  described  by 
its  bards  and  people,  a “ mountain  of  snow 
studded  with  jewels.” 

The  grandeur  of  the  worship  was  worthy 
of  this  glory  of  architecture.  Four-and-twren- 
ty  thousand  Levites  ministered  by  turns, — a 
thousand  at  a time.  Four  thousand  more 
performed  the  lower  offices.  Four  thousand 
singers  and  minstrels,  with  the  harp,  the 
trumpet,  and  all  the  richest  instruments  of  a 
land,  whose,  native  genius  was  music,  and 
whose  climate  and  landscape  led  men  instinc- 
tively to  delight  in  the  charm  of  sound,  chan- 
ted the  inspired  songs  of  our  warrior  king, 
and  filled  up  the  pauses  of  prayer  with  har- 
monies that  transported  the  spirit  beyond  the 
cares  and  passions  of  a troubled  world. 

I was  standing  before  the  altar  of  burnt- 
offering,  with  the  Levite  at  my  side  holding 
the  lamb ; the  cup  was  in  my  hand,  and  1 
was  about  to  pour  the  wine  on  the  victim, 
when  I was  startled  by  the  sound  of  hurried 
feet.  In  another  moment  the  veil  of  the 
porch  was  abruptly  thrown  back,  and  a figure 
rushed  in  ; it  was  the  high  priest,  but  not  in 
tlie  robes  of  ceremony  which  it  was  custom- 
ary for  him  to  wear  in  the  seasons  of  the 
greater  festivals.  He  was  covered  with  the 
common  vesture  of  the  priesthood,  and  was 
evidently  anxious  to  use  it  for  total  conceal- 
ment. His  face  was  buried  in  the  fold  of  his 
cloak,  and  he  walked  with  blind  precipitation 
towards  the  subterranean  passage  which  led 
from  the  sanctuary  to  his  cloister.  But  he 
had  scarcely  reached  it,  when  a new  feeling 
stopped  him ; and  he  turned  towards  the  al- 
tar, where  I was  standing  in  mute  surprise. 
The  cloak  fell  from  his  visage  ; it  was  pale 
as  death ; the  habitual  sternness  of  feature 
which  rendered  him  a terror  to  the  people, 
had  collapsed  into  feebleness ; while  he  gazed 


on  the  fire,  it  accidentally  blazed  up,  and  I 
thought  I saw  the  glistening  of  a tear  on  a 
cheek  that  had  never  exhibited  human  emo- 
tion before.  But  no  time  was  left  for  ques- 
tion, even  if  reverence  had  not  restrained  me. 
He  suddenly  grasped  the  head  of  the  lamb, 
as  was  customary  for  those  who  offered  up 
an  expiation  for  their  own  sins;  his  lip,  ashy 
white,  quivered  with  broken  prayer;  then, 
snatching  the  knife  from  the  Levite,  he  plun- 
ged it  into  the  animal’s  throat,  and  with  his 
hands  covered  with  blood,  and  with  a groan 
that  echoed  despair,  again  rushed  distracted- 
ly away  ! 

The  victim  still  burned  upon  the  altar,  and 
I was  offering  up  the  incense,  when  the  in- 
creasing sounds  abroad  told  me  that  the  de- 
serted courts  were  filling  once  more.  But 
the  sounds  grew  with  an  extraordinary  rapid- 
ity; they  were  60on  all  but  tumultuous.  The 
sanctuary  in  which  I stood  was  almost  wholly 
lighted  by  the  lamps  that  burned  round  the 
walls,  and  the  fitful  blaze  of  the  altar,  whose 
fires  were  never  suffered  to  be  extinguished. 
But  when,  at  length,  unable  to  suppress  my 
alarm  at  the  growing  uproar,  I went  to  the 
porch,  I left  comparative  day  behind  me ; a 
gloom  sicklier  than  that  of  tempest,  and  thick- 
er than  that  of  smoke,  overspread  the  sky.  The 
sun,  which  I had  seen  like  a fiery  buckler 
hanging  over  the  city,  was  utterly  gone. 
While  I looked,  the  darkness  deepened,  and 
the  blackness  of  night,  of  night  without  a star, 
fell  far  and  wide  upon  the  horizon. 

It  has  been  my  fate,  and  a fearful  part  of 
my  punishment,  always  to  conceive  that  the 
calamities  of  nature  and  nations  were  con- 
nected with  my  crime.  I have  tried  to  rea- 
son away  this  impression ; but  it  has  clung 
to  me  like  an  iron  chain ; like  the  shirt  of  the 
Centaur,  nothing  could  tear  it  away  that  left 
the  life  ; I have  felt  it  hanging  over  my  brain 
with  the  weight  of  a thunder-cloud.  As  I 
glanced  into  the  gloom,  the  thought  smote 
me,  that  it  was  I who  had  brought  this  Egyp- 
tian plague,  this  horrid  privation  of  the  first 
element  of  life  upon  my  country,  perhaps 
upon  the  world,  perhaps  never  to  be  relieved ; 
for  it  came  condensing  depth  on  depth,  till  it 
seemed  to  have  excluded  all  possibility  of  the 
existence  of  light ; it  was  like  that  of  our  old 
oppressors,  darkness  that  might  be  felt,  the 
darkness  of  an  universal  grave. 

I formed  my  fierce  determination  at  once ; 
and  resolved  to  fly  from  my  priesthood,  from 
my  kindred,  from  my  country  ; to  linger  out 
my  days  my  bitter,  banished,  blasted  days,  in 
some  wilderness,  where  my  presence  would 
not  be  a curse,  where  but  the  lion  and  the 
tiger  should  be  my  fellow  dwellers,  where 
the  sands  could  not  be  made  the  more  barren 
for  my  fatal  tread,  nor  the  fountains  more 
bitter  for  my  desperate  and  eternal  tears. 


Salathiel. 


7 


The  singular  presence  of  mind  found  in 
some  men  in  the  midst  of  universal  perturba- 
tion, one  of  the  most  effective  qualities  of  our 
nature,  and  attributed  to  the  highest  vigor  of 
heart  and  understanding,  is  not  always  de- 
serving of  such  proud  parentage.  It  is  some- 
times the  child  of  mere  brute  ignorance  of 
danger,  sometimes  of  habitual  ferocity, — in 
my  instance  it  was  that  of  madness — the 
fierce  energy  that  leads  the  maniac  safe  over 
roofs  and  battlements.  All  in  the  temple 
was  confusion.  The  priests  lay  flung  at  the 
feet  of  the  altars ; or,  clinging  together  in 
groups  of  helplessness  and  dismay,  waited 
speechless  for  the  devastation  that  was  to 
visit  them  in  this  unnatural  night.  I walked 
through  all,  without  a fear  or  a hope  under 
heaven. 

Through  the  solid  gloom  and  among  heaps 
of  men  and  sacred  things  cast  under  my  feet, 
like  the  spoil  and  corpses  of  some  stormed 
camp,  I made  my  way  to  my  dwelling  direct 
and  unimpeded,  as  if  I walked  in  the  light 
of  day.  I found  my  wife  in  deeper  terror  at 
my  long  absence  than  even  at  the  darkness. 
She  sprang  forward  to  my  voice,  and,  falling 
on  my  neck,  shed  the  tears  of  joy  and  love. 
But  few  words  passed  between  us,  and  but 
few  were  necessary  to  bid  her  with  her  babe 
follow  me.  She  would  have  followed  me  to 
the  ends  of  the  earth. 

Oh  Miriam,  Miriam,  how  often  have  I 
thought  of  thee  in  my  long  pilgrimage  ! how 
often,  like  that  of  a spirit  descended  to  min- 
ister consolation  to  the  wanderer,  have  I 
seen,  in  my  midnight  watching,  thy  counte- 
nance of  more  than  woman’s  beauty ! To 
me  thou  hast  never  died.  Thy  more  than 
man’s  loftiness  of  soul,  thy  generous  fidelity 
of  love  to  a wayward  and  unhappy  heart ; 
thy  patient  treading  with  me  along  the  path 
that  I had  sowed  with  the  thorn  and  thistle 
for  thy  feet,  but  which  should  have  been 
covered  with  the  wealth  of  princes  to  be 
worthy  of  thy  loveliness  and  thy  virtues  ; all 
rise  in  memory  and  condemnation  before  the 
chief  of  sinners.  Age  after  age  have  I 
travelled  to  thy  lonely  grave ; age  after  age 
have  I wept  and  prayed  upon  the  dust  that 
was  once  perfection.  In  all  the  hardness 
forced  upon  me  by  a stem  world ; in  all  the 
hatred  of  mankind  that  the  insolence  of  the 
barbarian  and  the  persecutor  has  bound  round 
my  bosom  like  a mail  of  iron,  I have  pre- 
served one  source  of  feeling  sacred  ; a soli- 
tary fount  to  feed  the  little  vegetation  of  a 
withered  heart,  the  love  of  thee  : perhaps  to 
be  a sign  of  that  regenerate  time,  when  the 
curse  shall  be  withdrawn ; perhaps  to  be  in 
mercy,  the  source  from  which  that  more  than 
desert,  thy  husband’s  soul,  shall  be  refreshed, 
and  the  barrenness  flourish  with  the  flowers 
of  the  paradise  of  God ! 


Throwing  off  my  robe  of  priesthood,  as  1 
then  thought,  for  ever,  I went  forth,  leading 
my  heroic  wife  in  one  hand,  and  bearing  my 
child  in  the  other.  I had  left  behind  me 
sumptuous  things,  wealth  transmitted  from  a 
long  line  of  illustrious  ancestry.  I cared  not 
for  them.  Wealth  a thousand  times  more 
precious  was  within  my  embrace.  Yet  when 
[ touched  the  threshold,  the  last  sensation  of 
divorce  from  all  that  I had  been,  came  over 
my  mind.  My  wife  felt  the  trembling  of  my 
frame,  and,  with  that  gentle  firmness  which 
in  the  hour  of  trouble  often  exalts  the  forti- 
tude of  woman  above  the  headlong  and  in- 
flamed courage  of  the  warrior,  she  bade  me 
be  of  good  cheer.  I felt  her  lips  on  my  hand 
at  the  moment ; the  touch  gave  new  energy 
to  my  whole  being ; and  I bounded  forward 
into  the  ocean  of  darkness. 

Without  impediment  or  error,  I made  my 
way  over  and  among  the  crowds  that  strewed 
the  court  of  the  Gentiles.  I heard  many  a 
prayer  and  many  a groan;  but  I had  now  no 
more  to  do  with  man ; and  forced  my  way 
steadily  to  the  great  portal.  Thus  far,  if  1 
had  been  stricken  with  utter  blindness,  I 
could  not  have  been  less  guided  by  the  eye. 
But,  on  passing  into  the  streets,  of  the  lower 
city,  a scattered  torch,  from  time  to  time, 
struggling  through  the  darkness,  like  the 
lamp  in  a sepulchre,  gave  me  glimpses  of  the 
scene. 

The  broad  avenues  were  encumbered  with 
the  living  in  semblance  of  the  dead.  All 
was  prostration,  or  those  attitudes  into  which 
men  are  thrown  by  terror  beyond  the  strength 
or  spirit  of  man  to  resist.  The  cloud  that, 
from  my  melancholy  bed  above  the  valley  of 
Hinnom,  I had  seen  rolling  up  the  hills,  was 
this  multitude.  A spectacle,  whose  name 
shall  never  pass  my  lips,  had  drawn  them  all 
by  a cruel,  a frantic,  curiosity  out  of  Jeru- 
salem, and  left  it  the  solitude  that  had  sur- 
prised me.  Preternatural  eclipse  and  horror 
fell  on  them,  and  their  thousands  madly  rush- 
ed back  to  perish,  if  perish  they  must,  within 
the  walls  of  the  City  of  Holiness.  Still  the 
multitude  came  pouring  in ; their  distant 
trampling  had  the  sound  of  a cataract ; and 
their  out-cries  of  pain,  and  rage,  and  terror, 
were  like  what  I have  since  heard,  but  more 
feebly,  sent  up  from  the  field  of  battle. 

I struggled  on,  avoiding  the  living  torrent 
by  the  ear,  and  slowly  threading  my  way 
wherever  I heard  the  voices  least  numerous; 
but  my  task  was  one  of  extreme  toil ; and 
but  for  those,  more  than  all  the  treasures  of 
the  earth  to  me,  whose  lives  depended  on 
my  efforts,  I should  have  willingly  lain  down, 
and  suffered  the  multitude  to  trample  me 
into  the  grave.  How  long  1 thus  struggled 
I know  not  But  a yell  of  peculiar  and  uni- 
versal terror  that  burst  round  me,  made  me 


8 


Salat  hiel. 


turn  my  reluctant  eyes  towards  Jerusalem. 
The  cause  of  this  new  alarm  was  seen  at  once. 
A large  sphere  of  fire  fiercely  shot  through 
the  heavens,  lighting  its  tract  down  the 
murky  air,  and  casting  a disastrous  and  pal- 
lid illumination  on  the  myriads  of  gazers 
below.  It  stopped  above  the  city,  and  ex- 
ploded in  thunder,  flashing  over  the  whole 
horrizon,  but  covering  the  temple  with  a 
blaze  which  gave  it  the  aspect  of  a huge  mass 
of  metal  glowing  in  the  furnace.  Every  out- 
line of  the  architecture,  every  pillar,  every 
pinnacle,  was  seen  with  a livid  and  terrible 
distinctness.  Again  all  vanished.  I heard 
the  hollow  roar  of  an  earthquake  ; the  ground 
rose  and  heaved  under  our  teet.  1 heard 
the  crash  ot  buildings,  the  fall  of  fragments 
of  the  hills,  and,  louder  than  both,  the  groan 
of  the  multitude.  I caught  my  wife  and 
child  closer  to  my  bosom.  In  the  next  mo- 
ment, I felt  the  ground  give  way  beneath 
me ; a sulphureous  vapor  took  away  my 
breath,  and  I was  caught  up  in  a whirlwind 
of  dust  and  ashes  ! 


CHAPTER  IV. 

When  I recovered  my  senses,  all  was  so 
much  changed  round  me,  that  I could  scarce- 
ly be  persuaded  that  either  the  past  or  the 
present  was  not  a dream.  I had  no  con- 
sciousness of  any  interval  between  them, 
more  than  that  of  having  closed  my  eyes  at 
one  instant,  to  open  them  at  the  next.  Yet 
the  curtains  of  a tent  waved  round  me  in  a 
breeze  fragrant  with  the  breath  of  roses  and 
the  balsam-tree.  Beyond  the  gardens  and 
meadows,  from  which  those  odors  sprang,  a 
river  shone,  like  a path  of  lapis  lazuli,  in  the 
calm  effulgence  of  the  western  sun.  Tents 
were  pitched,  from  which  I heard  the  sounds 
of  pastoral  instruments  ; camels  were  drink- 
ing and  grazing  along  the  river-side ; and 
turbaned  men  and  maidens  were  ranging 
over  the  fields,  or  sitting  on  the  banks  to  en- 
joy the  cool  of  the  delicious  evening. 

1 While  I tried  to  collect  my  senses,  and 
discover  whether  this  was  more  than  one  of 
those  sports  of  a wayward  fancy  which  tan- 
talize the  bed  of  a sick  mind,  I heard  a low 
hymn  ; and  listened  to  the  sounds  with 
breathless  anxiety.  The  voice  I knew  at 
once— it  was  Miriam’s.  But  in  the  disorder 
of  my  brain,  and  the  strange  circumstances 
which  had  filled  the  late  days,  in  that  total 
feebleness  too  in  which  1 could  not  move  a 
limb  or  utter  a word,  a persuasion  seized  me 
that  I was  already  beyond  the  final  boundary 
of  mortals.  All  before  me  was  like  that 
paradise  from  which  the  crime  of  our  great 
forefather  had  driven  man  into  banishment. 


I remembered  the  convulsion  of  the  earth 
into  which  I had  sunk  ; and  asked  myself, 
could  man  be  wrapped  in  the  flame,  and  the 
whirlwind  that  tore  up  mountains  like  the 
roots  of  flowers,  and  yet  live  ? Still  it  was 
pain  to  me  to  think  that  the  lovely  and  the 
young  should  have  so  soon  gone  down  to  the 
grave — that  Miriam  should  have  been  cutoff 
from  the  long  enjoyment  of  life  due  to  her  gen- 
tle virtue — that  a creature,  delicate  of  form, 
and  beautiful  as  the  young  vine,  should  have 
been  torn  away  from  the  world  by  the  grasp 
of  a death  so  sudden  and  terrible. 

In  this  perplexity  I closed  my  eyes  to  col- 
lect my  thoughts ; and  probably  exhibited 
some  strong  emotion  of  countenance ; for  I 
was  roused  by  a cry — “ Pie  lives,  he  lives  !” 
1 looked  up,  Miriam  stood  before  me,  clasp- 
ing her  lovely  hands  with  the  wildness  of 
joy  unspeakable,  and  shedding  tears,  that, 
large  and  lustrous,  fell  down  her  glowing 
cheeks,  like  dew  upon  the  pomegranate. 
She  threw  herself  upon  my  pillow,  kissed  my 
forehead  with  lips  that  breathed  new  life  into 
me;  then  pressing  my  chili  hand  between 
hers,  knelt  down,  and  with  a look  worthy  of 
that  heaven  on  which  it  was  fixed,  radiant 
with  beauty  and  holiness  and  joy,  as  the  face 
of  an  angel,  offered  up  her  thanksgiving. 

The  explanation  of  the  scene  that  per- 
plexed me  was  given  in  a few  words,  inter- 
rupted only  by  tears  and  sighs  of  delight. 
With  the  burst  of  the  earthquake,  the  super- 
natural darkness  was  cleared  away.  I was 
flung  under  the  shelter  of  one  of  those  caves 
which  abound  in  the  gorges  of  the  mountains 
round  Jerusalem.  Miriam,  and  her  infant, 
were  flung  by  my  side,  yet  unhurt.  While 
I lay  insensible  in  her  arms,  she,  by  singular 
good  fortune,  found  herself  surrounded  by  a 
troop  of  our  kinsmen,  returning  from  the 
city,  where  terror  had  suffered  but  few  to  re- 
main. They  placed  her  and  her  infant  on 
their  camels.  Me  they  would  have  consign- 
ed to  the  sepulchre  of  the  priests;  but  Miriam 
was  not  to  be  shaken  in  her  purpose  to  watch 
over  me  until  all  hope  was  gone.  I was 
thus  carried  along;  and  they  were  now 
three  days  on  their  journey  homewards. 
The  landscape  before  me  was  Samaria. 

My  natural  destination  would  have  been 
the  cities  of  the  priests,  which  lay  to  the 
south,  bordering  upon  Hebron.  In  those 
thirteen  opulent  and  noble  residences  allot- 
ted to  the  higher  ministry  of  the  templp, 
they  enjoyed  all  that  could  be  offered  by  the 
munificent  wisdom  of  the  state; — wealth 
that  raised  them  above  the  pressures  of  life, 
yet  not  so  great  as  to  extinguish  the  power 
of  intellectual  distinction,  or  the  love  of  the 
loftier  virtues.  The  means  of  mental  cul- 
tivation were  provided  for  them,  with  more 
than  royal  liberality.  Copies  of  the  sacred 


Salathiel. 


9 


books,  multiplied  in  every  form,  and  adorned 
with  the  finest  skill  of  the  pencil  and  the 
sculptor  in  gold  and  other  precious  materials, 
attested  at  once  the  reverence  of  the  nation 
for  its  law,  and  the  perfection  to  which  it 
had  brought  the  decorative  arts.  The  works 
of  strangers,  eminent  for  genius  or  know- 
ledge, or  even  for  the  singularity  of  their 
subject,  were  not  less  to  be  found  in  those 
stately  treasure-houses  of  mind.  There  the 
priest  might  relax  his  spirit  from  the  sub- 
limer  studies  of  his 'country,  by  the  bold  and 
brilliant  epic  of  Greece ; the  fantastic  pas- 
sion, and  figured  beauty  of  the  Persian  poesy ; 
or  the  alternate  severity  and  sweetness  of 
the  Indian  drama  : — that  startling  union  of 
all  lovely  images  of  nature,  the  bloom  and 
fragrance  of  flowers,  the  hues  of  the  oriental 
heaven,  and  the  perfumes  of  isles  of  spice 
and  cinnamon,  with  the  grim  and  subter- 
ranean terrors  of  a gigantic  idolatry.  There 
he  might  spread  the  philosophic  wing  from 
the  glittering  creations  of  Grecian  metaphy- 
sics, to  their  dark  and  early  oracles  in  the 
East ; or,  stopping  in  the  central  flight, 
plunge  into  the  profound  of  Egyptian  mys- 
tery, where  science  lies,  like  the  mummy, 
wrapped  in  a thousand  folds  that  preserve 
the  form,  but  preserve  it  with  the  living  prin- 
ciple gone. 

Music,  of  all  pleasures  the  most  intellect- 
ual, that  glorious  painting  to  the  ear,  that 
rich  mastery  of  the  gloomier  emotions  of  our 
nature,  was  studied  by  the  priesthood  with  a 
skill  that  influenced  the  habits  of  the  coun- 
try. How  often  have  my  fiercest  perturba- 
tions sunk  at  the  sounds  that  once  filled  the 
breezes  of  Judea!  How  often,  when  my 
brain  was  burning,  and  the  blood  ran  through 
my  veins  like  molten  brass,  have  I been  soft- 
ened down  to  painless  tears,  by  the  chorus 
from  our  hills,  the  mellow  harmonies  of  harp 
and  horn,  blending  with  the  voices  of  the 
youths  and  maidens  of  Israel ! How  often 
have  I in  the  night  listened,  while  the  chant, 
ascending  with  a native  richness  to  which 
the  skill  of  other  nations  was  dissonance, 
floated  upwards  like  a cloud  of  incense  bear- 
ing the  aspirations  of  holiness  and  gratitude 
to  the  throne  of  Him  whom  man  hath  not 
seen,  nor  can  seel 

But  those  times  are  sunk  deep  in  the  great 
gulf,  that  absorbs  the  happiness  and  genius 
of  man.  I have  since  traversed  my  country 
in  its  length  and  breadth  ; I have  marked 
with  my  weary  feet  every  valley,  and  made 
my  restless  bed  upon  every  hill  from  Idumea 
to  Lebanon,  and  from  the  Assyrian  sands  to 
the  waters  of  the  Mediterranean  ; yet  the 
harp  and  voice  were  dead.  I heard  sounds 
on  the  hills;  but  they  were  the  cries  of  the 
villagers  flying  before  some  tyrant  gatherer 
of  a tyrant’s  tribute.  I heard  sounds  in  the 


midnight;  but  they  were  the  howl  of  the 
wolf,  and  the  yell  of  the  hyaena,  revelling 
over  the  naked  and  dishonored  graves  which 
the  Turk  had  given  in  his  scorn  to  the  peo- 
ple of  my  fathers. 

But  the  study  to  which  the  largest  expen- 
diture of  wealth  and  labor  was  devoted,  was 
as  it  ought  to  be,  that  of  the  sacred  books  of 
Israel.  It  only  makes  me  rebellious  against 
the  decrees  of  fate,  to  think  of  the  incom- 
parable richness  and  immaculate  character 
of  the  volumes  over  which  I have  so  often 
hung;  and  look  upon  the  diminished  and  de- 
graded exterior  in  which  their  wisdom  now 
lies  before  man.  Where  are  now  the  cases 
covered  with  jewels,  the  clasps  of  topaz  and 
diamond  1 the  golden  arks  in  which  the  vol- 
ume of  the  hope  of  Israel  lay,  too  precious 
not  to  be  humiliated  by  the  contact  with 
even  the  richest  treasure  of  earth  1 Where 
are  the  tissued  curtains,  that  hid,  as  in  a 
sanctuary,  that  mighty  roll,  too  sacred  to  be 
glanced  on  by  the  casual  eye  1 But  the 
spoiler — the  spoiler ! The  Arab,  the  Par- 
thian, the  human  tiger  of  the  north,  that  lies 
crouching  for  a thousand  years  in  the  sheep- 
fold  of  Judah!  Is  there  not  a sword  1 — Is 
there  not  a judgment! — Terribly  will  it  judge 
the  oppressor. 

The  home  of  my  kinsmen  was  in  the  allot- 
ment of  Naphtali.  The  original  tribe  re- 
volted in  the  general  schism  of  the  kingdoms 
of  Judah  and  Isreal ; and  was  swept  into  the 
Assyrian  captivity.  But  on  the  restoration 
by  Cyrus,  fragments  of  all  the  captive  tribes 
returned,  and  were  suffered  to  resume  their 
lands.  Misfortune  wrought  its  moral  on 
them:  the  chief  families  pledged  their  alle- 
giance once  more  to  Judah,  and  were  exem- 
plary in  paying  homage  to  the  spirit  and  ordi- 
nances of  their  religion. 

We  speeded  through  the  hated  soil  of 
Samaria.  The  hand  of  Heaven  is  not  as  the 
hand  of  man.  Its  blow  is  not  given  but  in 
justice : and  it  leaves  a deep  and  fearful 
trace  behind.  Its  wrath,  like  its  own  tempest, 
gathers  long  above  the  eye ; but  when  it 
strikes,  the  scorched  and  shattered  land 
gives  stern  evidence  that  there  the  fiery 
ploughshare  has  been  driven.  By  the  Baby- 
lonish captivity,  the  whole  strength  of  the 
chosen  people  suffered  a shock,  from  which 
it  never  fully  rose  again.  The  richest  por- 
tion of  Canaan,  its  central  tract,  cutting  off 
the  northern  from  the  southern  tribes,  and 
lying  between  its  chief  river  and  the  sea, 
was  alienated  to  worse  than  strangers — to  a 
mingled  race  of  apostate  Jews,  Assyrian 
plunderers,  and  refugees  from  Arabia  and 
Syria.  For  a perpetual  brand  on  the  Jewish 
name,  the  last  infliction  of  a hostile  and  im- 
pure worship  was  raised  among  them;  and 
ion  Mount  Gerizim  stood  a temple  to  which 


10 


Salathiel. 


Samaria  paid  its  homage,  the  rival  of  the 
temple  of  Jerusalem. 

The  rancorous  enmity  borne  by  the  Samari- 
tans to  the  subjects  of  Judah,  for  ages  made 
all  intercourse  between  Jerusalem  and  the 
north  difficult.  It  was  often  totally  inter- 
rupted by  war — it  was  dangerous  in  peace  ; 
and  the  ferocious  character  of  the  population, 
and  the  bitter  antipathy  of  the  government, 
made  it  to  the  Jew  a land  of  robbers. 

But  among  the  evils  of  the  Roman  con- 
quest, was  mingled  this  good,  that  it  suffered 
no  subordinate  tyranny.  Its  sword  cut  away 
at  a blow  all  those  minor  oppressions  which 
make  the  misery  of  provincial  life.  If  the 
mountain  robber  invaded  the  plain,  as  was 
his  custom  of  old,  the  Roman  cavalry  were 
instantly  on  him  with  the  spear,  until  he  took 
refuge  in  the  mountains — if  he  resisted  in 
his  native  fastnesses,  the  legionaries  pursued 
him  with  torch  and  sword,  stifled  him  if  he 
remained  in  his  cave,  or  stabbed  him  at  its 
mouth. 

If  quarrels  arose  between  two  villages,  the 
cohorts  burned  both  to  the  ground  : — and  the 
execution  was  done  witli  a promptitude  and 
completeness  that  less  resembled  the  ordi- 
nary operations  of  war,  than  the  work  of 
superhuman  power.  The  Roman  knowledge 
of  our  disturbances  was  instantaneous.  Sig- 
nals established  on  the  hills  conveyed  intelli- 
gence with  the  speed  of  light  from  the  re- 
motest corners  of  the  land  to  their  principal 
stations.  Even  in  our  subsequent  conspira- 
cies, the  first  knowledge  that  they  had  broken 
out  was  often  conveyed  to  their  partisans  in 
the  next  district  by  the  movement  of  the  Ro- 
man troops.  Well  had  they  chosen  the  eagle 
for  their  ensign.  They  rushed  with  the  eagle’s 
rapidity  on  their  victim ; and  when  it  was 
stretched  in  blood,  they  left  the  spot  of  ven- 
geance, as  if  they  had  left  it  on  the  wing. 
Their  march  had  the  rapidity  of  the  most 
hurried  retreat,  and  the  steadiness  of  the 
most  secure  triumph.  They  left  nothing  be- 
hind, but  the  marks  of  their  irresistible 
power. 

All  the  armies  of  the  earth  have  since 
passed  before  me.  I have  seen  the  equals 
of  the  legions  in  courage  and  discipline;  and 
their  superiors  in  those  arms  by  which  hu- 
man life  is  at  the  caprice  of  ambition.  But 
their  equals  I have  never  seen  in  the  individual 
fitness  of  the  soldier  for  war;  in  his  fleetness, 
muscular  vigor,  and  expertness  in  the  use  of 
his  weapons;  in  his  quick  adaptation  to  all  the 
multiplied  purposes  of  the  ancient  campaign 
— from  the  digging  of  a trench,  or  the  man- 
agement of  a catapult,  to  the  assault  of  a cita- 
del ; in  his  iron  endurance  of  the  vicissitudes 
of  climate ; in  the  length  and  regularity  of 
his  marches;  or  in  the  rapidity,  boldness,  and 
dexterity  of  his  manoeuvres  in  the  field.  Yet, 


it  is  but  a melancholy  tribute  to  the  valor  of 
| my  countrymen,  to  record  the  Roman  ac- 
knowledgment, that  of  all  the  nations  con- 
jquered  by  Rome,  Judea  bore  the  chain  with 
the  haughtiest  dignity,  and  most  frequently 
and  fiercely  contested  the  supremacy  of  the 
sword. 

Under  that  stern  supremacy  the  Samari- 
tan had  long  shrunk,  and  Canaan  enjoyed  an 
exemption  from  the  harrassing  cruelty  of 
(petty  war.  We  now  passed  with  our  long 
caravan  unguarded,  and  moving  at  will 
through  fields  rich  with  the  luxuriance  of  an 
Eastern  summer,  where  our  fathers  would 
have  scarcely  ventured  but  with  an  army.  I 
made  no  resistance  to  being  thus  led  away 
to  a region  so  remote  from  my  own.  To  have 
returned  to  the  cities  of  the  priests,  would 
have  but  given  me  hourly  agony. 

Even  the  gates  of  Jerusalem  were  to  my 
feelings  anathema.  The  whole  fabric  of  my 
mind  had  undergone  a revolution  ; like  a 
man  tossed  at  the  mercy  of  the  tempest,  I 
sought  but  a shore — and  all  shores  were 
alike  to  him  who  must  be  an  exile  for  ever! 


CHAPTER  V. 

The  country  through  which  we  passed, 
after  leaving  the  boundaries  of  Samaria — 
where,  with  all  its  peace,  no  Jew  could 
tread,  but  as  in  a land  of  strangers — was 
new  to  me.  My  life  had  been  till  now  spent 
in  study,  or  in  serving  the  altar;  and  I had 
heard,  with  the  usual  and  unwise  indiffer- 
ence of  men  devoted  to  books,  the  praise  of 
the  picturesque  and  stately  provinces  that 
still  remained  to  our  People.  I was  now  to 
see  for  myself;  and  be  compelled,  as  we  ad- 
vanced, to  reproach  the  idle  prejudice  that 
had  thus  long  deprived  me,  and  might  for 
ever  deprive  so  many  of  my  consecrated 
brethren,  of  an  enjoyment  cheering  to  the 
human  heart,  and  full  of  lofty  and  hallowed 
memory  to  the  man  of  Israel. 

As  we  passed  along,  less  travelling  than 
wandering  at  pleasure,  through  regions 
where  every  winding  of  the  marble  hill,  or 
ascent  of  the  lovely  and  fruitful  valley,  show7- 
ed  us  some  sudden  and  romantic  beauty  of 
landscape,  my  kinsmen  took  a natural  pride 
in  pointing  out  the  noble  features  that  made 
Canaan  a living  history  of  Providence. 

What  were  even  the  trophy-covered  hill 
of  Greece,  or  the  monumental  plains  of  Italy, 
to  the  hills  and  plains  where  the  memorial 
told  of  the  miracles,  and  the  presence  of  the 
Supreme.  “ Look  to  that  rock,”  they  would 
exclaim,  “there  descended  the  angel  of  the 
Presence  ! On  the  summit  of  that  cloudy 
ridge  stood  Ezekiel,  when  he  saw  the  vision 


Salathiel. 


11 


of  the  latter  days.  Look  to  yonder  cleft  in 
the  mountains — there  fell  the  lightning  from 
heaven  on  the  Philistine.” 

In  our  travel  we  reached  a valley,  a spot 
of  singular  beauty  and  seclusion,  blushing; 
with  Sowers,  and  sheeted  with  the  olive 
from  its  edge  down  to  a stream  that  rushed 
brightly  through  its  bosom.  There  was  no 
dwelling  of  man  in  it;  but  on  a gentler  slope 
of  the  declivity  stood  a gigantic  terebinth- 
tree.  More  than  curiosity  was  attracted  by 
this  delicious  spot,  for  the  laugh  and  talking 
of  the  caravan  had  instantly  subsided  at  the 
sight.  All,  by  a common  impulse,  dismounted 
from  their  horses  and  camels ; and  though  it 
was  still  far  from  sunset,  the  tents  were 
pitched,  and  preparations  made  for  prayer. 
The  spot  reminded  me  of  the  valley  of  He- 
bron, sacred  to  the  Jewish  heart  as  the  burial: 
place  of  Abraham,  Sarah,  and  Isaac; — may 
they  sleep  in  the  bosom  of  the  Lord  ! The 


terebinth-tree,  under  which  the  greatestof  the 
patriarchs  sat  and  talked  with  the  angels — the 
fountain — the  cave  of  Macpelah,  in  which  his 
mortal  remnant  returned  to  the  earth,  to  come 
again  in  glory,  appeared  to  lie  before  me. 

From  the  day  of  my  unspeakable  crime  Iliad 
never  joined  in  prayer  with  my  people.  I 
was  still  a believer  in  the  faith  of  Israel.  I 
even  clung  to  it  with  the  nervous  violence 
of  one  who,  in  a shipwreck,  feels  that  his  only  j 
hope  is  the  plank  in  his  grasp;  and  that  some1 
more  powerful  hand  is  tearing  even  that  plank  ; 
away.  But  the  sight  of  human  beings  enjoy- 
ing the  placid  consolations  of  prayer,  had  from 
the  first  moment  overwhelmed  me  with  so 
keen  a sense  of  my  misfortune — the  pious 
gentleness  of  attitude  and  voice — the  calm 
uplifted  hand,  and  low  and  solemn  aspiration, 
were  so  deep  a contrast  to  the  involuntary 
wildness  and  broken  utterings  of  a heart 
bound  in  more  than  adamantine  chains ; that  I 
shrank  from  the  rebuke,  and  howled  in  solitude. 

I went  forth  into  the  valley,  and  was  soon 
lost  in  its  thick  vegetation.  The  sound  of 
the  hymn  that  sank  down  in  mingled  sweet- 
ness with  the  murmuring  of  the  evening  air 
tjirough  the  leaves,  and  the  bubbling  of  the 
brook  below,  alone,  told  me  that  I was  near 
human  beings.  I sat  upon  a fragment  of  turf, 
embroidered  as  never  was  kingly  footstool, 
and  with  my  hands  clasped  on  my  eyes,  to 
remove  from  me  all  the  images  of  life,  gave 
way  to  that  visionary  and  wasteful  mood  of 
mind,  in  which  ideas  come  and  pass  in  crowds 
without  shape,  and  leaving  no  more  impres- 
sion than  the  drops  of  a sun-shower  on  the 
trees.  I had  remained  long  in  this  half 
dreaming  confusion,  and  had  almost  imagined 
myself  transported  to  some  intermediate 
realm  of  being,  where  a part  of  the  affliction 
was  that  of  being  startled  by  keen  flashes  of 
light  from  this  upper  world,  when  I was 
roused  by  the  voice  of  Eleazar,  the  brother 
of  Miriam,  at  my  side. 


His  manly  and  generous  countenance  ex- 
pressed mingled  anxiety  and  gladness  at  dis- 
covering me.  “ The  whole  camp,”  said  he, 
“ have  been  alarmed  at  your  absence,  and 
have  searched,  for  these  three  hours,  through 
every  part  of  our  day’s  journey.  Miriam’s 
distraction  at  length  urged  me  to  leave  her ; 
and  it  was  by  her  instinct  that  I took  my  way 
down  the  only  path  hitherto  unsearched,  and 
where,  indeed,  from  fear  or  reverence  of  the 
place,  few  but  myself  would  have  willingly 
come.”  He  called  to  an  attendant,  and  send- 
ing him  up  the  side  of  the  valley  with  the 
tidings,  we  followed  slowly,  for  I was  still 
feeble.  As  we  emerged  into  an  opener  space, 
the  moon,  lying  on  masses  of  cloud,  like  a 
sultana  pillowed  on  couches  of  silver,  showed 
me,  in  her  strong  illumination  of  the  forest, 
the  flashes  which  had  added  to  the  bewildered 
pain  of  my  reverie.  While  I talked  with 
natural  animation  of  the  splendor  of  the  hea- 
vens, and  pointed  out  the  lines  and  figures 
on  the  moon’s  disk,  which  made  it  probable 
that  it  vvas,  like  earth,  a place  of  habitation ; 
he  suddenly  pressed  my  hand,  and  stopping, 
with  his  eyes  fixed  on  my  face,  “ How,”  said 
he,  “ does  it  happen,  my  friend,  my  brother, 

Salathiel '!” 1 started,  as  if  my  name,  the 

name  of  my  illustrious  ancestor,  direct  in  de- 
scent from  the  father  of  the  faithful,  were  an 
accusation.  He  proceeded  with  but  a more 
ardent  pressure  of  my  quivering  hand — “ How 
is  it  to  be  accounted  for,  that  you,  with  such 
contemplations,  and  the  knowledge  that  gives 
them  the  dignity  of  science,  can  yet  be  so 
habitually  given  over  to  gloom  ? — Serious 
crime  I will  not  believe  in  you ; though  the 
best  of  us  are  stained.  But  your  character  is 
pure : I know  your  nature  to  be  too  lofty  for 
the  degenerate  indulgence  of  the  passions; 
and  Miriam’s  love  for  you,  a love  passing  that 
of  woman,  is,  of  itself,  a seal  of  virtue.  An- 
swer me — Can  the  wealth,  power,  or  influ- 
ence of  your  brother  and  his  house,  nay,  of 
his  tribe,  assist  you  1” 

1 was  silent.  He  paused;  and  we  walked 
on  awhile,  without  a sound  but  that  of  our 
tread  among  the  leaves : but  his  mind  was 
full,  and  it  would  have  way.  “ Salathiel,” 
said  he,  “ you  do  injustice  to  yourself,  to  your 
wife,  and  to  your  friends.  This  gloom  that 
sits  eternally  on  your  forehead,  must  wear 
away  all  your  uses  in  society  : it  bathes  your 
incomparable  wife’s  pillow  in  tears ; and  it 
disheartens  and  distresses  us  all.  Answer 
me  as  one  man  of  honor  and  integrity  would 
another.  Have  you  been  disappointed  in 
your  ambition  1 I know  your  claims.  You 
have  knowledge  surpassing  that  of  a multi- 
tude of  your  contemporaries;  you  have  tal- 
ents that  ought  to  be  honored  ; your  charac- 
ter is  unimpeached  and  unimpeachable. 
Such  things  ought  to  have  already  lifted  you 
ito  eminence.  Have  you  found  yourself 
1 thwarted  by  the  common  trickery  of  official 


12 


Salathiel. 


life  7 Has  some  paltry  sycophant  crept  up 
before  you  by  the  oblique  patli  that  honor 
dis  ains  1 Or  have  you  felt  yourself  an  ex- 
cluded and  marked  man,  merely  for  the  dis- 
play of  that  manlier  vigor,  richer  genius,  and 
more  generous  and  sincere  impulse  of  heart, 
which,  to  the  conscious  inferiority  ot  the  rab- 
ble of  understanding,  is  gall  and  wormwood  ! 
Or  have  you  taken  too  deeply  into  your  re- 
sentment, the  common  criminal  negligence 
that  besets  common  minds  in  power,  and 
makes  them  carelessly  fling  away  upon  in- 
capacity, and  guiltily  withhold  from  worth, 
the  rewards  which  were  intrusted  to  them, 
as  a sacred  deposit,  for  the  encouragement  of 
the  national  ability  and  virtue  1” 

I strongly  disavowed  all  conceptions  of  the 
kind  ; and  assured  him  that  I felt  neither  pe- 
culiar merits  nor  peculiar  injuries.  I had 
seen  too  much  of  what  ambition  and  worldly 
success  were  made  of,  to  allow  hope  to  ex- 
cite, or  failure  to  depress  me.  “ I am  even,” 
added  I,  “ so  far  from  being  the  slave  of  that 
most  vulgar  intemperance  of  a deranged 
heart,  the  diseased  craving  for  the  miserable 
indulgences  of  worldly  distinction,  that 
would  to  heaven  I might  never  again  enter 
the  gates  of  Jerusalem.” 

He  started  back  in  surprise.  The  confes- 
sion had  been  altogether  unintended  ; and  I 
looked  up  to  see  the  burst  of  Jewish  wrath 
descending  upon  me.  I saw  none.  My 
kinsman’s  fine  countenance  was  brightened 
with  a lofty  joy.  “ Then  you  have  re- 
nounced.— But  no,  it  is  yet  too  soon.  At 
your  age,  with  your  prospects,  can  you  have 
renounced  the  career  offered  to  you  among 
the  rulers  of  Israel  1” 

“ I have  renounced.” 

“Sincerely,  solemnly,  upon  conviction  1” 

“ From  the  bottom  of  my  soul ; now  and 
for  ever !” 

We  had  reached  the  open  space  in  front 
of  the  terebinth-tree  that  stood  in  majesty, 
extending  its  stately  branches  over  a space 
cleared  of  all  other  trees,  a sovereign  of  the 
forest.  In  silence  he  led  me  under  a shade 
to  a small  tomb,  on  which  the  light  fell  with 
broken  lustre.  “ This,”  said  he,  “ is  the 
tomb  of  the  greatest  prophet  on  whose  lips 
the  wisdom  of  Heaven  ever  burned.  There 
sleeps  Isaiah  ! — There  is  silent  the  voice  that 
for  fifty  years  spoke  more  than  the  thoughts 
of  man  in  the  ears  of  a guilty  people.  There 
are  cold  the  hands  that  struck  the  harp  of  more 
than  mortal  sounds  to  the  glory  of  Him  to 
whom  earth  and  its  kingdoms  are  but  as  the 
dust  of  the  balance.  There  lies  the  heart 
which  neither  the  desert  nor  the  dungeon,  nor 
the  teeth  of  the  lion,  nor  the  saw  of  Manns- 
seh,  could  tame  : — the  denouncer  of  our  crimes 
— the  scourge  of  our  apostacy — the  prophet 
of  that  desolation  which  was  to  bow  the 
grandeur  of  Judah  to  the  grave,  as  the  tree 
of  the  mountain  in  the  whirlwind.  Saint  and 


martyr,  let  my  life  be  as  thine  ; and  if  it  be  the 
will  of  God,  let  my  death  be  even  as  thine.” 
He  threw  himself  on  his  knees,  and  re- 
mained in  prayer  for  a time.  I knelt  with 
him,  but  no  prayer  would  issue  from  my 
heart.  He  at  length  rose,  and  leading  me 
into  the  moonlight,  said  in  a low  voice — “ Is 
there  not,  where  the  holy  sleep,  a holiness 
in  the  very  ground  1 I waive  all  the  super- 
stitious feelings  of  the  idolater,  worshiping 
the  dust  of  the  creature,  for  the  king  alike 
of  all.  I passover  the  natural  human  hom- 
age for  the  memory  of  those  who  have  risen 
above  us  by  the  great  qualities  of  their 
being.  But  if  there  are  supernal  influences 
acting  upon  the  mind  of  man  ; if  the  winged 
spirits  that  minister  before  the  throne  still 
descend  to  earth  on  missions  of  mercy,  I will 
believe  that  their  loved  place  is  round  the 
grave  where  sleeps  the  mortal  portion  of  the 
holy.  In  all  our  journeys  to  the  temple,  it 
has  been  the  custom  of  our  shattered  and 
humiliated  tribe  to  pause  beside  this  tomb, 
and  offer  up  our  homage  to  that  Mightiest  of 
the  mighty,  who  made  such  men  for  the 
lights  of  Israel !” 

He  earnestly  repeated  the  question — 
“ Have  you  abandoned  your  office  1”  “ Yes,” 

was  the  answer,  “ totally  ; with  full  purpose 
never  to  resume  it.  In  your  mountains  I will 
live  with  you,  and  with  you  I will  die.”  Mem- 
ory smote  me  as  I pronounced  the  word  : the 
refuge  of  the  grave  was  not  for  me  ! 

“ Then,”  said  he,  “ you  have  relieved  my 
spirit  of  a load  : you  are  now  my  more  than 
brother.”  He  clasped  me  in  his  arms.  “ Yes, 
Salathiel,  I know  that  your  high  heart  must 
have  scorned  the  prejudices  of  the  Scribe 
and  the  Pharisee;  you  must  have  seen 
through  and  loathed  the  smiling  hypocrisy, 
the  rancorous  bigotry,  the  furious  thirst  of 
blood,  that  are  hourly  sinking  us  below  the 
lowest  of  the  heathen.  Hating  the  tyranny 
of  the  Roman,  as  1 live  this  hour,  I would 
rather  see  the  city  of  David  inhabited  by 
none  but  the  idolater,  or  delivered  over  to 
the  curse  of  Babylon,  and  made  the  couch  of 
the  lion  and  the  serpent,  than  6ee  its  courts 
filled  with  those  impious  traitors  to  the  spirit 
of  the  law,  those  cruel  extortioners  under 
the  mask  of  self-denial,  those  malignant 
revelers  in  human  torture  under  the  name 
of  insulted  religion  ; whose  joy  is  crime,  and 
every  hour  of  whose  being  but  wearies  the 
long-suffering  of  God,  and  precipitates  the 
ruin  of  my  country.” 

He  drew  from  "his  bosom  and  unrolled  in 
the  moonlight  a small  copy  of  the  scriptures. 
“ My  brother,”  said  he,  “ have  you  read  the 
holy  prophecies  of  him  by  whose  grave  we 
| standi”  My  only  answer  was  a smile  ; they 
| were  the  chief  study  ofthe  priesthood.  “ True,” 
said  he,  “ no  doubt  you  have  read  the  words 
lof  the  prophet.  But  Wisdom  is  known  of  her 
children,  and  of  them  alone.  Read  here.” 


Salathiel. 


13 


I read  the  famous  Haphtorah.  “ Who 
hath  believed  our  report,  and  to  whom  is  the 
arm  of  the  Lord  revealed  1 For  he  shall 
grow  up  before  him  as  a tender  plant,  and  as 
a root  out  of  the  dry  ground:  he  hath  no 
form  nor  comeliness ; and  when  we  shall  see 
him,  there  is  no  beauty,  that  we  should  de- 
sire him.  He  is  despised,  and  rejected  of 
men  ; a man  of  sorrow  !”  He  stopped  me, 
laying  his  hand  on  my  arm ; I felt  his  strong 
nerves  tremble  like  an  infant’s.  “ Of  whom 
hath  the  prophet  spoken  1”  uttered  he,  in  a 
voice  of  intense  anxiety.  “ Of  whom  ? of 
the  Deliverer,  that  is  to  restore  Judah;  Him 
that  is  to  come,”  was  my  answer.  “ Him 
that  is  to  come,  still  to  come  ?”  he  exclaimed. 
“ God  of  Heaven,  must  the  veil  be  for  ever 
on  the  face  of  thy  Israel ! When  shall  our 
darkness  be  light;  and  the  chain  of  our  spirit, 
be  broken !”  The  glow  and  power  of  his 
countenance  sank;  he  took  the  roll  with  a 
sigh,  and  replaced  it  in  his  robe ; then,  with 
his  hands  clasped  across  his  bosom,  and  his 
head  bowed,  he  led  our  silent  way  up  the 
side  of  the  valley. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

We  soon  reached  the  hill  country,  and  our 
road  passed  through  what  were  once  the  al- 
lotments of  Issacher,  Zebulon,  and  Asher ; 
but  by  the  Roman  division,  was  now  Upper 
Galilee.  My  health  had  been  rapidly  re- 
stored by  the  exercise  and  the  balmy  air. 
My  more  incurable  disease  was  prevented  by 
the  journey  from  perhaps  totally  engrossing 
my  mind.  Of  all  the  antagonists  to  mental 
depression,  travelling  is  the  most  vigorous : 
not  the  flight  from  place  to  place,  as  if  evil 
was  to  be  outrun;  nor  the  enclosure  of  the 
weary  of  life  in  some  narrow  vehicle  that 
adds  fever  and  pestilence  to  heaviness  of 
heart;  but  the  passing  at  our  ease  through 
the  open  air  and  bright  landscape  of  a new 
country. 

To  me  the  novelty  and  loveliness  of  the 
land  were  combined  with  the  memory  of  the 
most  striking  events  in  human  record.  I had, 
too,  the  advantage  of  a companionship,  which 
would  have  enlivened  travel  through  the 
wilderness — brave  and  cheerful  men ; and 
women  on  whose  minds  and  forms  Nature 
laid  her  finest  stamp  of  beauty.  The  name 
of  Jew  is  now  but  another  title  for  humilia- 
tion. Who  that  sees  that  fallen  thing,  with 
his  countenance  bent  to  the  ground,  and  his 
form  withered  of  its  comeliness,  totering 
through  the  proud  streets  of  Europe  in  some 
degrading  occupation,  and  clothed  in  the 
robes  of  the  beggared  and  the  despised,  could 
imagine  the  bold  figures,  and  gallant  bearing 
of  the  lion  hunters,  with  whom,  in  the  midst 
ot  shouts  and  songs  of  careless  joy,  I spurred 
niv  barb  up  the  mountain  paths  of  Galilee  1 I 

Yet,  fallen  as  he  is,  the  physiognomy  of' 


the  Jew  retains  a share  of  its  original  beauty, 
sufficient  to  establish  the  claim  of  the  people 
to  have  been  the  handsomest  race  on  earth. 
Individuals  of  superior  comeliness  may  often 
be  found  among  the  multitudes  of  mankind. 
But  no  nation,  nor  distinct  part  of  any  nation, 
can  rival  an  equal  number  of  the  unhappy 
exiles  of  Israel,  in  the  original  impress  of 
that  hand  which  made  man  only  a little 
lower  than  the  angels.  To  conceive  the 
Jew  as  he  was,  we  should  conceive  the  stern 
and  watchful  contraction  of  the  dark  eye  ex- 
panded ; the  fierce  and  rigid  brow  lowering 
no  more  ; the  lip  no  longer  gathered  in  hab- 
itual fear  or  scorn  ; the  cheek  no  longer 
sallow  with  want  or  pining,  and  the  whole 
man  elevated  by  the  returning  consciousness 
that  he  has  a rank  among  nations.  All  his 
deformities  have  been  the  birth  of  his  misfor- 
tunes. What  beauty  can  we  demand  from 
the  dungeon  1 — what  dignity  of  aspect  from 
the  hewers  of  wood  and  drawers  of  water  for 
mankind  1 Where  shall  we  seek  the  magnifi- 
cent form  and  illumined  countenance  of  the 
hero,  and  the  sage  1 — from  the  heart  cankered 
by  the  chain,  from  the  plundered,  the  enslaved, 
the  persecuted  of  two  thousand  years'! 

Of  the  daughters  of  my  country  I have 
never  seen  their  equals  in  beauty.  Our  blood 
was  Arab,  softened  down  by  various  changes 
of  state  and  climate,  till  it  was  finally 
brought  to  perfection  in  the  most  genial  air, 
and  the  most  generous  soil  of  the  globe. 
The  vivid  features  of  the  Arab  countenance, 
no  longer  attenuated  by  the  desert,  assumed, 
in  the  plenty  of  Egypt,  that  fulness  and  fine 
proportion  which  still  belongs  to  the  dwellers 
by  the  Nile  ; but  the  true  change  was  on  our 
entrance  into  the  promised  land.  Peace,  the 
possession  of  property,  days  spent  among  the 
pleasant  and  healthful  occupations  of  rural 
life,  are  in  themselves  productive  of  the  finer 
developments  of  the  human  form ; a form 
whose  natural  tendency  is  to  beauty.  But 
our  nation  had  an  additional  and  unshared 
source  of  nobleness  of  aspect;  it  was  free. 
The  state  of  man  in  the  most  unfettered  re- 
publics of  the  ancient  world  was  slavery, 
compared  with  the  magnanimous  and  secure 
establishment  of  the  Jewish  commonwealth. 
During  the  three  hundred  golden  years  from 
Moses  to  Samuel, — before,  for  our  sins,  we 
were  given  over  to  the  madness  of  innovation, 
and  the  demand  of  an  earthly  diadem, — the  Jew 
was  free,  in  the  loftiest  sense  of  freedom ; 
free  to  do  all  good ; restricted  only  from 
evil;  every  man  pursuing  the  unobstructed 
course  pointed  out  by  his  genius  or  his  for- 
tune; every  man  protected  by  laws  invio- 
lable, or  whose  violation  was  instantly  visited 
with  punishment  by  the  Eternal  Sovereign 
alike  of  ruler  and  people. 

Freedom  ! twin-sister  of  Virtue,  thou 
brightest  of  all  the  spirits  descended  in  the 
train  of  Religion  from  the  throne  of  God ; 


14 


Salat  hiel. 


thou  that  leadest  up  man  again  to  the  early' 
glories  of  his  being;  angel  from  the  circle: 
of  whose  presence  happiness  spreads  like  the1 
sun-light  over  the  darkness  of  the  land  ! at 
the  waving  of  whose  sceptre,  knowledge,  and 
peace,  and  fortitude,  and  wisdom,  stoop  upon 
the  wing  ; at  the  voice  of  whose  trumpet  the 
more  than  grave  is  broken,  and  slavery  gives 
up  her  dead  ; when  shall  I see  thy  coming  1 
When  shall  I hear  thy  summons  upon  the 
mountains  of  my  country,  and  rejoice  in  the 
regeneration  and  glory  of  the  sons  of  Judah  1 

I have  traversed  nations  ; and  as  I set  my 
foot  upon  their  boundary,  1 have  said,  Free- 
dom is  not  here  ! 1 saw  the  naked  hill,  the 

morass  streaming  with  death,  the  field  cov- 
ered with  weedy  fallow,  the  sickly  thicket 
encumbering  the  land  ; — I saw  the  still  more 
infallible  signs,  the  downcast  visage,  the  form 
degraded  at  once  by  loathsome  indolence  and 
desperate  poverty  ; the  peasant  cheerless  and 
feeble  in  his  field,  the  wolfish  robber,  the 
population  of  the  cities  crowded  into  huts 
and  cells  with  pestilence  for  their  fellow; — 1 
saw  the  contumely  of  man  to  man,  the  furious 
vindictiveness  of  popular  rage,  and  1 pronounc- 
ed at  the  moment,  This  people  is  not  free. 

In  the  republics  of  heathen  antiquity,  the 
helot,  the  client  sold  for  the  extortion  of  the 
patron,  and  the  born  bondsman,  lingering  out 
life  in  thankless  toil,  at  once  put  to  flight  all 
conceptions  of  freedom.  In  the  midst  of  al- 
tars fuming  to  liberty,  of  harangues  glowing 
with  the  most  pompous  protestations  of  scorn 
for  servitude,  of  crowds  inflated  with  the  pre- 
sumption that  they  disdained  a master,  the 
eye  was  insulted  with  the  perpetual  chain. 
The  temple  of  Liberty  was  built  upon  the 
dungeon.  Rome  came,  and  unconsciously 
avenged  the  insulted  name  of  freedom  ; the 
master  and  the  slave  were  bowed  together; 
the  dungeon  was  made  the  common  dwell- 
ing of  all. 

In  the  Italian  republics  of  after  ages,  1 saw 
the  vigor  that,  living  in  the  native  soil  of 
empire,  has  always  sprung  up  on  the  first 
call.  The  time  was  changed  since  Italy 
poured  its  legions  over  the  world.  The  vol- 
cano was  now  sleeping;  yet  the  fire  still 
burned  within  its  womb,  and  threw  out  in 
its  invisible  strength  the  luxuriant  qualities 
of  the  land  of  power.  The  innate  Roman 
passion  for  sovereignty  W'as  no  longer  to  find 
its  triumphs  in  the  field  ; it  rushed  up  the 
paths  of  a loftier  and  more  solid  glory  with  a 
speed  and  strength  that  left  mankind  wonder- 
ing below.  The  arts,  adventure,  legislation, 
literature  in  all  its  shapes,  of  the  subtle,  the 
rich  and  the  sublime,  were  the  peaceful  tri- 
umphs, whose  laurels  will  entwine  the  Ital- 
ian brow,  when  the  wreath  of  the  Caesars  is 
remembered  but  as  a badge  of  national  folly 
and  crime. 

But  those  republics  knew  freedom  only  by 
the  name.  All,  within  a few  years  from 


their  birth,  abandoned  its  living  principles — 
justice,  temperance,  and  truth.  I saw  the 
soldiery  of  neighbor  cities  marching  to  mu- 
tual devastation,  and  I said,  Freedom  is  not 
here  ! I saw  abject  privation  mingled  with 
boundless  luxury  ; in  the  midst  of  the  noblest 
works  of  architecture,  the  hovel ; in  the 
pomps  of  citizens  covered  with  cloth  of  gold, 
gazing  groups  of  faces  haggard  with  beggary 
and  sin  ; I saw  the  sold  tribunal,  the  inexor- 
able state  prison,  the  established  spy,  the 
protected  assassin,  the  secret  torture  ; and  I 
said,  Freedom  is  not  here!  The  pageant 
filled  the  streets  with  more  than  kingly  bla- 
zonry, the  trumpets  flourished,  the  multitude 
shouted,  the  painter  covered  the  walls  with 
immortal  emblems  in  honor  of  freedom  ; I 
pointed  to  the  dungeon,  the  rack,  and  the 
dagger  ! Bitterer  and  deeper  sign  than  all, 
I pointed  to  the  exile  of  exiles,  the  broken 
man,  whom  even  the  broken  trample,  of  all 
the  undone  the  roost  undone,  my  outcast  bro- 
ther in  the  blood  of  Abraham  ! 

I am  not  about  to  be  his  defender ; I am 
not  regardless  of  his  tremendous  crime:  I 
cannot  stand  up  alone  against  the  voice  of 
universal  man,  which  has  cried  out  that  thus 
it  shall  be  ; but  I say  it  from  the  depths  of 
my  soul,  and  as  I hope  for  rest  to  my  miseries, 
that  1 never  saw  freedom  survive  in  that  land 
which  loved  to  smite  the  Jew ! 

I saw  one  republic,  the  mightiest  and  the 
last ; for  the  justice  of  Heaven  on  the  land, 
the  most  terrible ; for  the  mercy  of  Heaven 
to  mankind,  the  briefest  in  its  devastation. 
But  there  all  was  hypocrisy  that  was  not 
open  horror;  the  only  equal  rights  were 
those  of  the  equal  robber  ; the  sacred  figure 
of  liberty  veiled  its  face  ; and  the  offering  on 
its  violated  shrine  was  the  spoil  of  honor, 
bravery,  and  virtue. 

The  daughters  of  our  nation,  sharing  in 
the  rights  of  its  sons,  bore  the  lofty  impres- 
sion that  virtuous  freedom  always  stamps  on 
the  human  features.  But  they  had  the  softer 
graces  of  their  sex  in  a degree  unequalled  in 
the  ancient  world.  While  the  woman  of  the 
East  was  immured  behind  bolts  and  bars, 
from  time  immemorial  a prisoner;  and  the 
woman  of  the  West  was  a toy,  a savage,  or 
a slave  ; our  wives  and  maidens  enjoyed  the 
intercourses  of  society,  which  their  talents 
were  well  calculated  to  cheer  and  adorn. 
They  were  skilled  on  the  harp;  their  sweet 
voices  were  tuned  to  the  richest  strains  of 
earth  ; they  were  graceful  in  the  dance;  the 
writings  of  our  bards  were  in  their  hands ; 
and  what  nation  ever  possessed  such  illus- 
trious founts  of  thought  and  virtue  1 

But  there  was  another  and  still  higher 
ground  for  that  peculiar  expression  which 
makes  their  countenance  still  lighten  before 
me,  as  something  of  more  than  mortal 
beauty.  The  earliest  consciousness  of  every 
Jewish  woman  was — that  she  might,  in  the 


Salat  hi  el. 


15 


hand  of  Providence,  be  the  sacred  source  of 
a blessing  and  a glory  that  throws  all  imagi- 
nation into  the  shade ; that  of  her  might  be 
born  a Being,  to  whom  earth  and  all  its  kings 
should  bow  ! the  more  than  man  ! the  more 
than  angel!  veiling  for  a little  time  his 
splendors  in  the  form  of  man,  to  raise  Israel 
to  the  sceptre  of  the  world,  to  raise  that 
world  into  a renewed  paradise,  and  then  to 
resume  his  original  glory,  and  be  Sovereign, 
Creator,  God — all  in  all ! 

This  consciousness,  however  dimmed,  was 
never  forgotten ; the  misfortunes  of  Judah 
never  breaking  the  strong  link  by  which  we 
held  to  the  future.  The  reliance  on  predic- 
tions perpetually  renewed,  and  never  more 
vividly  renewed  than  in  the  midst  of  our 
misfortunes;  a reliance  commemorated  in 
all  the  great  ceremonies  of  our  nation,  in  our 
worship,  in  our  festivals,  in  every  baptism,  in 
every  marriage,  must  have  filled  a large 
space  in  the  susceptible  mind  of  woman. 
What  but  the  mind  forms  the  countenance  1 
and  what  must  have  been  the  moulding  of 
that  most  magnificent  and  elevating  of  all 
hopes,  for  centuries,  on  the  most  plastic  and 
expressive  features  in  the  world  ! 

Sacredly  reserved  from  intermixture  with 
the  blood  of  the  stranger,  the  hope  was  spread 
throughout  Israel.  The  line  of  David  was  pure, 
but  its  connection  had  shot  widely  through  the 
land.  It  was  like  the  Indian  tree  taking  root 
through  a thousand  trees.  Every  Jewish  wo- 
man might  hope  to  be  the  living  altar  on  which 
the  Light  to  lighten  the  Gentiles  was  to  de- 
scend ! The  humblest  might  be  the  blessed 
among  women  ! the  mother  of  the  Messiah  ! 

But  all  is  gone.  Ages  of  wandering,  woe, 
poverty,  contumely,  and  mixture  of  blood, 
have  done  their  work  of  evil.  The  loveliness 
may  partially  remain,  but  the  glory  of  Judah’s 
daughters  is  no  more. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

We  continued  ascending  through  the  de- 
files of  the  mountain  range  of  Carmel.  The 
gorges  of  the  hills  gave  us  alternate  glimpses 
of  Lower  Galilee,  and  of  the  great  sea,  which 
lay  bounding  the  western  horizon  with  azure. 
The  morning  breezes  from  the  land,  now  in 
the  full  vegetation  of  the  rapid  spring  of 
Palestine,  scarcely  ceased  to  fill  the  heavens 
with  fragrance,  when  the  sea-wind  sprang  up, 
and,  with  the  coolness  and  purity  of  a gush  of 
fountain  waters,  renewed  the  spirit  of  life  in 
the  air,  and  made  the  whole  caravan  forget  its 
fatigue.  Our  bold  hunters  spurred  down  the 
valleys  and  up  the  hills  with  the  wildness  of 
superfluous  vigor ; tossed  their  lances  into  the 
air;  sang  their  mountain  songs  ; and  shouted 
the  cries  of  the  chase  and  the  battle. 

On  one  eventful  day  a w'olf  was  started 
from  its  covert,  and  every  rein  was  let  loose 
in  a moment ; nothing  could  stop  the  fear- 


lessness of  the  riders,  or  exhaust  the  fire  of 
the  steeds.  The  caravan,  coming  on  slowly 
with  the  women  and  children,  and  lengthen- 
ing out  among  the  passes,  was  forgotten. 

1 scorned  to  be  left  behind,  and  followed  my 
daring  companions  at  full  speed.  The  wolf 
led  us  a long  chase  : and  on  the  summit  of  a 
rock  still  blazing  in  the  sun-light,  like  a bea- 
con, while  the  plain  was  growing  dim,  he 
fought  his  last  fight,  and,  transfixed  with  a 
hundred  lances,  died  the  death  of  a hero. 

But  the  spot  which  we  had  reached  sup- 
plied statelier  contemplations : we  were  on 
the  summit  of  mount  Tabor:  the  eye  wan- 
dered over  the  whole  glory  of  the  Land  of 
Promise.  To  the  south  extended  the  moun- 
tains of  Samaria,  their  peaked  summits  glow- 
ing in  the  sun  with  the  colored  brilliancy  of 
a chain  of  gems.  To  the  east  lay  the  lake 
of  Tiberias,  a long  line  of  purple.  North- 
ward, like  a thousand  rainbows,  ascended,  lit 
by  the  western  flame,  the  mountains  of  Gil- 
boa,  those  memorable  hills  on  which  the 
spear  of  Saul  was  broken,  and  the  first  curse 
of  our  obstinacy  was  branded  upon  us  in  the 
blood  of  our  first  king.  Closing  the  superb 
circle,  ascending  step  by  step  the  Antilibanus, 
soaring  into  the  very  heavens. 

Of  all  the  sights  that  nature  offers  to  the 
eye  and  mind  of  man,  mountains  have  always 
stirred  my  strongest  feelings.  I have  seen 
the  ocean  when  it  was  turned  up  from  the 
bottom  by  tempest,  and  noon  was  like  night 
with  the  conflict  of  the  billows  and  the  storm 
that  tore  and  scattered  them  in  mist  and 
foam  across  the  sky.  I have  seen  the  desert 
rise  around  me,  and  calmly,  in  the  midst  of 
thousands  uttering  cries  of  horror,  and  paral- 
ysed by  fear,  have  contemplated  the  sandy 
pillars  coming  like  the  advance  of  some  gi- 
gantic city  of  conflagration  flying  across  the 
wilderness,  every  column  glowing  with  in- 
tense fire,  and  every  blast  with  death ; the 
sky  vaulted  with  gloom,  the  earth  a furnace. 
But  with  me,  the  mountain — in  tempest  or 
in  calm,  the  throne  of  the  thunder,  or  with 
the  evening  sun  painting  its  dells  and  de- 
clivities in  colors  dipt  in  heaven — has  been 
the  source  of  the  most  absorbing  sensations: 
— there  stands  magnitude  giving  the  instant 
impression  of  a power  above  man — grandeur 
that  defies  decay — antiquity  that  tells  of 
ages  unnumbered — beauty  that  the  touch  of 
time  makes  only  more  beautiful — use  ex- 
haustless for  the  service  of  man — strength 
imperishable  as  the  globe, — the  monument 
of  eternity, — the  truest  earthly  emblem  of 
that  everliving,  unchangeable,  irresistible 
Majesty,  by  whom  and  for  whom  all  things 
were  made  ! 

I was  gazing  on  the  Antilibanus,  and  peo- 
pling its  distant  slopes  with  figures  of  other 
I worlds  ascending  and  descending,  as  in  the 
I patriarch’s  dream,  when  I was  roused  by  the 
I trampling  steed  of  one  of  my  kinsmen  re- 


Salathiel. 


turning  with  the  wolf’s  head,  the  trophy  of 
his  superior  prowess,  at  his  saddle  bow.  “ So,” 
said  he,  “ you  disdained  to  share  the  last  bat- 
tle of  that  dog  of  the  Galilees  ! But  we  shall 
show  you  something  better  worth  the  chase, 
when  we  reach  home.  The  first  snow  that 
drives  the  lions  down  from  Lebanon,  or  the 
first  hot  wind  that  sends  the  panthers  flying 
before  it  from  Assyria,  will  have  all  our  vil- 
lages up  in  arms ; every  man  that  can  draw  a 
bow,  or  throw  a lance,  will  be  on  the  moun- 
tains ; and  then  we  shall  give  you  the  honors 
of  a hunter  in  exchange  for  your  philosophy.” 
He  uttered  this  with  a jovial  laugh,  and  a 
hand  grasping  mine  with  the  gripe  of  a giant. 
“Yet,”  said  lie,  and  a shade  passed  over  his 
brow,  “ I wish  we  had  something  better  to 
do ; you  must  not  look  down  upon  Jubal,  and 
the  tribe  of  your  brother  Eleazar,  as  mere 
rovers  after  wolves  and  panthers.” 

I willingly  declared  my  respect  for  the  in- 
trepidity and  dexterity  which  the  mountain 
life  ensured.  I applauded  its  health,  activity 
and  cheerfulness.  “ Yet,”  interrupted  Jubal 
sternly,  “ what  can  be  done  while  those  Ro- 
mans are  every  where  around  us!”  He 
stopped  short,  reined  up  his  horse  with  a sudden 
force,  that  made  the  animal  spring  from  the 
ground,  flung  his  lance  high  in  the  air,  caught 
it  in  the  fall,  and  having  thus  relieved  his  in- 
dignation, returned  to  discuss  with  me  the 
chances  of  Roman  war.  “ Look  at  those,” 
said  he,  pointing  to  the  horsemen  who  were 
now  bounding  across  the  declivities  to  rejoin 
the  caravan ; their  horses  are  flame,  their  bo- 
dies are  iron,  and  their  souls  would  be  both, 
if  they  had  a leader.”  “ Eleazar  is  brave,” 
1 replied.  “ Brave  as  his  own  lance,”  was  the 
answer ; “ no  warmer  heart,  wiser  head,  or 
firmer  arm,  moves  at  this  hour  within  the 
borders  of  the  land.  But  he  despairs.”  “ He 
knows,”  said  I,  “ the  Roman  power  and  the 
Jewish  weakness.” 

“ Both,  both,  too  well,”  was  the  reply. — 
“ But  he  forgets  the  power  that  is  in  the  cause 
of  a people  fighting  for  their  law,  for  their 
rights,  in  the  midst  of  glorious  remembrances, 
nay  in  the  hope  of  a help  greater  than  that 
of  the  sword.  Look  at  the  tract  beyond  those 
linden  trees.” 

He  pointed  to  a broken,  extent  of  ground, 
darkly  distinguishable  from  the  rest  of  the 
plain.  “ On  that  ground,  to  this  moment 
wearing  the  look  of  a grave,  was  drawn  up 
the  host  of  Sisera ; under  that  ground  is  their 
grave.  By  this  stone,”  and  he  struck  his  lance 
on  a rough  pillow  defaced  by  time,  “ stood 
Peborah  the  prophetess,  prophecy  ing  against 
the  thousands  and  tens  of  thousands  of  the 
heathen  below.  On  this  hill  was  drawn  up 
the  army  of  Barak,  as  a drop  in  the  ocean, 
compared  with  the  infidel  multitudes.  They 
were  the  ancestors  of  men  whom  you  now 


see  trooping  before  you ; the  men  of  Naphtali, 
with  their  brothers  of  Zebulon.  On  this  spot 
they  gathered  their  might  like  the  storm  of 
Heaven.  From  this  spot  they  poured  down 
like  its  whirlwinds  and  lightnings  upon  the 
taunted  enemy.  God  was  their  leader.  They 
rushed  upon  the  nine  hundred  scythed  chariots, 
upon  the  mtiiled  cavalry,  upon  the  countless 
infantry.  Of  all,  but  one  escaped  from  the 
plain  of  Jezreel,  and  that  one  only  to  perish 
in  his  flight  by  the  degradation  of  a woman’s 
hand  !”  He  wheeled  round  his  foaming  horse, 
and  appealed  to  me,  “ Are  the  Roman  le- 
gions more  numerous  than  that  host  of  the 
dead!  Is  Israel  now  less  valiant,  less  wronged, 
or  less  indignant!  Shall  no  prophet  arise 
among  us  again ! Shall  it  not  be  sung  again, 
as  it  was  then  sung  to  the  harps  of  israel — 
‘ Zabulon  and  Naphtali  were  a people  that 
jeoparded  their  lives  unto  the  death  in  the 
high  places  of  the  land  !” 

I looked  with  involuntary  wonder  at  the 
change  wrought  in  him  by  those  proud  recol- 
lections. The  rude  and  jovial  hunter  was  no 
more;  the  Jewish  warrior  stood  before  me 
filled  with  the  double  impulse  of  generous 
scorn  of  the  oppression,  and  of  high  depend- 
ence on  the  fates  of  his  nation.  His  coun- 
tenance was  ennobled,  his  form  seemed  to 
dilate,  his  voice  grew  sonorous  as  a trumpet. 
A sudden  burst  of  the  declining  sun  broke 
upon  his  figure,  and  threw  a sheet  of  splen- 
dor across  the  scarlet  turban,  the  glittering 
tunic,  the  spear  point  lifted  in  the  strenuous 
hand,  the  richly  caparisoned  front,  and  san- 
guine nostril  of  his  impatient  charger.  A 
Gentile  would  have  worshipped  him  as  the 
tutelar  genius  of  war.  I saw  in  him  but  tne 
man  that  our  history  and  our  law  were  or- 
dained, beyond  all  others,  to  have  made  ; — 
the  native  strength  of  character  raised  into 
heroism  by  the  conviction  of  a guiding  and 
protecting  Providence. 

The  conversation  was  not  forgotten  on  ei- 
ther side ; and  it  bore  fruit,  fearful  fruit,  in 
time. 

We  had  reached  on  our  return  a command- 
ing point,  from  which  we  looked  into  the 
depths  already  filling  with  twilight,  and 
through  whose  blue  vapors  the  caravan  toiled 
slowly  along,  like  a wearied  fleet  in  some 
billowy  sea.  Suddenly  a tumult  was  per- 
ceived below : cries  of  confusion  and  terror 
rose;  and  the  whole  caravan  was  seen  scat- 
tering in  all  directions  though  the  passes. — 
For  the  first  moment  we  thought  that  it  had 
been  attacked  by  the  mountain  robbers.  We 
grasped  our  lances,  and  galloped  down  the 
side  of  the  hill  to  charge  them ; when  we 
\ycre  stopped  at  once  by  a woman’s  scream 
from  the  ridge  which  we  had  just  left.  It 
struck  through  my  heart — the  voice  was  Miri- 
am’s. To  my  unspeakable  horror,  I saw  her 


Salathiel. 


17 


dromedary,  mad  with  fear  and  pouring  blood, 
rush  along  the  edge  of  the  precipice.  I saw 
the  figure  clinging  to  his  neck.  The  light 
forsook  my  eyes ; and  but  for  the  grasp  of 
Jubal,  I must  have  fallen  to  the  ground. — 
His  voice  aroused  me.  When  I looked  round 
again,  the  shouts  had  died,  the  troop  had  dis- 
appeared— it  seemdd  all. a dream  ! 

But,  again,  the  shouts  came  doubling  upon 
the  wind  ; and  far  as  the  eye  could  pierce 
through  the  dusk,  I saw  the  white  robe  of 
Miriam  flying  along  like  a vapor.  I threw 
the  reins  on  my  horse’s  neck — I roused  him 
with  my  voice — I rushed  with  the  fearless- 
ness of  despair  through  the  hills — I overtook 
the  troop — I outstripped  them  : — still  the 
vision  flew  before  me.  At  length  it  sank. — 
The  dromedary  had  plunged  down  the  preci- 
pece  ; a depth  of  hideous  darkness.  A tor- 
rent roared  below.  I struck  in  the  spur  to 
follow.  My  horse  wheeled  round  on  the 
edge : while  I strove  to  force  him  to  the  leap, 
my  kinsmen  came  up,  with  Eleazer  at  their 
head.  Bold  as  they  were,  they  all  recoiled 
from  the  frightful  depth.  Even  in  that  wild 
moment,  I had  time  to  feel  that  this  was  but 
the  beginning  of  rny  inflictions,  and  that  I 
was  to  wreck  the  ruin  of  all  that  belonged  to 
me.  In  consciousness  unspeakable,  I sprang 
from  my  startled  steed ; and  before  a hand 
could  check  me,  I plunged  in.  A cry  of 
astonishment  and  horror  rang  in  my  ears  as 
I fell.  The  roar  of  waters  was  then  around 
me.  I struggled  with  the  torrent;  gasped; 
and  heard  no  more. 

This  desperate  effort  saved  the  life  of  i 
Miriam.  We  were  found  apparently  dead, 
clasped  in  each  other’s  arms  at  some  distance 
down  the  stream.  The  plunge  had  broke 
the  band  by  which  she  was  fixed  on  the  sad- 
dle. She  floated  and  we  were  thrown  to- 
gether by  the  eddy.  After  long  effort,  we 
were  restored.  But  the  lamentations  of  my 
matchless  wife  were  restrained  beside  my 
couch,  only  to  burst  forth  when  she  was  alone. 
We  had  lost  our  infant. 

The  chase  of  the  wolves  in  the  mountain 
had  driven  them  across  the  march  of  the 
caravan.  One  of  those  savages  sprang  upon 
the  flank  of  the  dromedary.  The  animal,  in 
the  agony  of  its  wounds,  burst  away : its 
proverbial  fleetness  baffled  pursuit;  and  it' 
was  almost  fortunate  that  it  at  length  bound- 
ed over  the  precipice  ; as,  in  the  mountain 
country,  its  precious  burden  must  have  per- 
ished by  the  lion  or  by  famine.  Miriam 
held  her  babe  with  the  strong  grasp  of  a 
mother;  but  in  the  torrent  that  grasp  was 
dissolved.  All  our  search  was  in  vain.  My 
wife  wept : — but  I had  in  her  rescued  my 
chief  treasure  of  earth  ; and  was  consoled  by 
the  same  deep  feeling  which  pronounced  that] 
I might  have  been  punished  by  the  loss  of  all. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

Let  me  hasten  through  some  years.  The 
sunshine  of  life  was  gone;  in  all  my  desire 
to  conform  to  the  habits  of  my  new  career,  I 
found  myself  incapable  of  contentment.  But 
the  times,  that  had  long  resembled  the  stag- 
nation of  a lake,  were  beginning  to  be  shaken. 
Rome  herself,  the  prey  of  conspiracy,  gradual- 
ly held  her  foreign  sceptre  with  a feebler 
hand.  Gaul  and  Germany  were  covered  with 
gathering  clouds;  and  their  flashes  were  an- 
swered from  the  Asiatic  hills.  With  the  re- 
laxation of  the  paramount  authority,  the  chain 
of  subordinate  oppression,  as  always  happens, 
was  made  tighter.  As  the  master  was  en- 
feebled, the  menials  were  less  in  awe;  and 
Judea  rapidly  felt  what  must  be  the  evils  of 
a military  government  without  the  strictness 
of  military  discipline. 

I protest  against  being  charged  with  ambi- 
tion. But  I had  a painful  sense  of  the  guilt 
of  suffering  even  such  powers  as  I might 
possess,  to  waste  away,  without  use  to  some 
part  of  mankind.  I was  weary  of  the  utter 
unproductiveness  of  the  animal  enjoyments, 
in  which  I saw  the  multitude  round  me  con- 
tent to  linger  into  old  age.  I longed  for  an 
opportunity  of  contributing  my  mite  to  the 
solid  possessions  by  which  posterity  is  wiser, 
happier,  or  purer,  than  the  generation  before 
them: — some  trivial  tribute  to  that  mighty 
stream  of  time  which  ought  to  go  on,  con- 
tinually bringing  richer  fertility  as  it  flowed. 
I was  not  grieved  at  the  change  which  I 
saw  overshadowing  the  gorgeous  empire  of 
Rome. 

My  unspeakable  crime  may  have  thrown  a 
deeper  tinge  on  those  contemplations.  But 
by  singular  fatality,  and  perhaps  for  the  in- 
crease of  my  punishment,  I was  left  for  long 
periods  in  each  year  to  the  common  impres- 
sions of  life.  The  wisdom,  which  even  my 
great  misfortune  might  have  forced  upon  me, 
was  withheld  ; and  the  being  who,  in  the 
conviction  of  his  mysterious  destiny,  must 
have  looked  upon  earth  and  its  pursuits,  as 
man  looks  upon  the  labors  and  the  life  of  flies 
— as  the  atoms  in  the  sunshine — as  measure- 
less emptiness  and  trifling, — was  given  over 
to  be  disturbed  by  the  impulse  of  generations 
on  whose  dust  he  was  to  sit,  and  see  other 
generations  rise  round  him,  themselves  to 
sink  alike  into  dust,  while  he  still  sat  an 
image  of  endurance  and  warning  imperish- 
able. 

But  there  was  a season  in  each  year  when 
those  recollections  returned  with  overwhelm- 
ing vividness.  If  all  other  knowledge  of  the 
approach  of  the  passover  could  have  escaped 
me,  there  were  signs,  fearful  signs,  that 
warned  me  of  that  hour  of  my  woe.  A pe- 


Salat  hi  el. 


] 8 


riodic  dread  of  the  sight  of  man,  a sudden,  | 
gloomy  sense  of  my  utter  separation  from  j 
the  interests  of  the  transitory  beings  round 
me,  wild  dreams,  days  of  immovable  abstrac- 
tion, yet  filled  with  the  breathing  picture  of 
all  that  l had  done  on  the  day  of  my  guilt  in 
Jerusalem,  rose  before  me  with  such  intense 
reality,  that  1 lived  through  the  scene.  The 
successive  progress  of  my  crime — the  swift 
and  stinging  consciousness  of  condemnation 
— the  flash  of  fearful  knowledge,  that  showed 
me  futurity; — all — all  were  felt  with  the 
keenness  of  a being  from  whom  his  fleshly 
nature  had  been  stripped  away,  and  the  soul 
bared  to  every  visitation  of  pain.  I stood 
like  a disembodied  spirit  in  suffering. 

Yet  l could  not  be  restrained  from  follow- 
ing my  tribe  on  their  annual  progress  to  the 
Holy  City.  To  see  from  afar  the  towers  of 
the  temple,  was  with  me  like  a craving  for 
life: — but  I never  dared  to  set  my  foot  with- 
in its  gates.  On  some  pretence  or  other, 
and  sometimes  through  real  powerlessness, 
arising  from  the  conflict  of  my  heart,  I lin- 
gered behind,  yet  within  the  distance  from 
which  the  city  could  be  seen.  There  among 
the  precipices  1 wandered  through  the  day, 
listening  to  the  various  uproar  of  the 
mighty  multitude,  or  wistfully  catching  some 
echo  of  the  hymns  in  the  temple — sounds  that 
6tole  from  my  eye  many  a tear — till  darkness 
fell,  the  city  slumbered,  and  the  blast  of  the 
Roman  trumpets,  as  they  divided  the  night, 
reminded  me  of  the  fallen  glories  of  my 
country. 

In  one  of  those  wanderings,  I had  followed 
the  course  of  the  Kedron,  which,  from  a brook 
under  the  walls  of  Jerusalem,  swells  to  a 
river  on  its  descent  to  the  Dead  Sea.  The 
blood  of  the  sacrifices  from  the  conduits  of 
the  altars  curdled  on  its  surface,  and  stained 
the  sands  purple.  It  looked  like  a wounded 
vein  from  the  mighty  heart  above.  I still 
strayed  on,  wrapt  in  sad  forebodings  of  the 
hour  when  its  stains  might  be  of  more  than 
sacrifice;  until  I found  myself  on  the  edge 
of  the  lake.  Who  has  ever  seen  that  black 
expanse  without  a shudder  1 There  were 
the  ingulphed  cities.  Around  it,  life  was 
extinct — no  animal  bounded — no  bird  hover- 
ed. The  distant  rushing  of  the  river  Jordan, 
as  it  (breed  its  current  through  the  heavy 
waters,  or  the  sigh  of  the  wind  through  the 
reeds,  alone  broke  the  silence  of  this  mighty 
grave.  Of  the  melancholy  objects  of  nature, 
none  is  more  depressing  than  a large  expanse 
of  stagnant  waters.  No  gloom  of  forest,  no 
wildness  of  mountain,  is  so  overpowering,  as 
this  dreary,  unrelieved  flatness: — the  marshy 
border — the  sickly  vegetation  of  the  shore — 
the  leaden  color  which  even  the  sky  above  it 
wears,  tinged  by  its  sepulchral  atmosphere. 
But  the  waters  before  me  were  not  left  to 
the  dreams  of  a saddened  fancy  : — they  were 


a sepulchre.  Myriads  of  human  beings  lay 
beneath  them,  entombed  in  sulphureous  beds. 
The  wrath  of  Heaven  has  been  there. 

The  day  of  destruction  seemed  to  pass 
again  before  my  eyes,  as  I lay  gazing  on 
those  sullen  depths.  I saw  them  once  more 
a plain  covered  with  richness;  cities  glitter- 
ing in  the  morning  sun;  multitudes  pouring 
out  from  their  gates  to  sports  and  festivals : 
the  land  exulting  with  life  and  luxuriance. 
Then  a cloud  gathered  above.  I heard  the 
voice  of  the  thunder; — it  was  answered  by 
the  earthquake.  Fire  burst  from  the  skies; 
— it  was  answered  by  a thousand  founts  of  fire 
spouting  from  the  plain.  The  distant  hills 
blazed,  and  threw  volcanic  showers  over  the 
cities.  Round  them  was  a tide  of  bhrning  bitu- 
men. The  earthquake  heaved  again.  All  sank 
into  the  gulf!  I heard  the  roar  of  the  distant 
waters.  They  rushed  into  the  bed  of  fire  ; 
the  doom  was  done;  the  cities  of  the  plain 
were  gone  down  to  the  blackness  of  darkness 
for  ever. 

I was  idly  watching  the  bursts  of  suffo- 
cating vapor  that  shoot  up  at  intervals  from 
the  rising  masses  of  bitumen,  when  I was 
startled  by  a wild  laugh  and  wilder  figure 
beside  me.  I sprang  on  my  feet,  and  pre- 
pared for  defence  with  my  poinard : the 
figure  waved  his  hand  in  sign  to  sheathe  the 
unnecessary  weapon;  and  said,  in  a tone 
strange  and  melancholy,  “you  are  in  my 
power;  but  I do  not  come  to  injure  you.  I 
have  been  contemplating  your  countenance 
for  some  time: — I have  seen  your  features 
deeply  disturbed — your  wringing  hands — 
your  convulsed  form: — are  you  even  as  I 
am  1” 

The  voice  was  singularly  mild : yet  I 
never  heard  a sound  that  so  keenly  pierced 
my  brain.  The  speaker  was  of  the  tallest 
stature  of  man — every  sinew  and  muscle  ex- 
hibiting gigantic  strength;  yet,  with  the 
symmetry  of  a Greek  statue.  But  his  coun- 
tenance was  the  true  wonder — it  was  of  the 
finest  mould  of  manly  beauty:  the  contour 
was  Greek,  but  the  hue  was  Syrian: — yet 
the  dark  tinge  of  country  gave  way  at  times 
to  a more  than  corpse-like  paleness.  I had 
full  leisure  for  the  view;  for  he  stood  gazing 
on  me  without  a word  ; and  I remained  fixed 
on  my  defence.  At  length,  he  said,  “ put 
up  that  poinard  ! You  could  no  more  hurt 
me  than  you  could  resist  me  : — look  here  !” 
He  wrenched  a huge  mass  of  rock  from  the 
ground,  and  whirled  it  far  into  the  lake,  as 
if  it  had  been  a pebble.  I o-azed  with  speech- 
less astonishment.  “Yes;”  pursued  the  fig- 
ure,— “ they  throw  me  into  their  prisons — 
they  lash  me — they  stretch  me  on  the  rack 
— they  burn  my  flesh.”  As  he  spoke,  he 
flung  aside  his  robe,  and  showed  his  broad 
breast  covered  with  scars.  “ Short-sighted 
fools!  little  they  know  him  who  suffers,  or 


Salathiel. 


19 


him  who  commands.  If  it  were  not  my  will 
to  endure,  I could  crush  my  tormentors  as  I 
crush  an  insect.  They  chain  me  too,”  said 
he  with  a laugh  of  scorn.  He  drew  out  the 
arm  which  had  been  hitherto  wrapped  in  his 
robe.  It  was  loaded  with  links  of  iron  of 
prodigious  thickness.  He  grasped  one  of 
them  in  his  hand,  twisted  it  off  with  scarcely 


an  effort,  and  flung  it  up  a sightless  distance 
in  the  air.  “ Such  are  bars  and  bolts  to  me ! 
When  my  time  is  come  to  suffer,  I submit  to 
be  tortured  ! When  my  time  is  passed,  I 
tear  away  their  fetters,  burst  their  dungeons, 
and  walk  forth  trampling  their  armed  men.” 

I sheathed  the  dagger.  “ Does  this 
strength  amaze  you]”  said  the  being:  “look 
to  yonder  dust and  he  pointed  to  a cloud 
of  sand  that  came  flying  along  the  shore. 
“I  could  outstrip  that  whirlwind; — I could 
plunge  unhurt  into  the  depths  of  that  sea  ; — 
I could  ascend  that  mountain  swifter  than 
the  eagle ; — I could  ride  that  thunder 
cloud.” 

As  he  threw  himself  back,  gazing  upon 
the  sky — with  his  grand  form  buoyant  with 
vigor,  and  his  arm  exalted — he  looked  like 
one  to  whom  height  or  depth  could  offer  no 
obstacle.  His  mantle  flew  out  along  the 
blast,  like  the  unfurling  of  a mighty  wing. 
There  was  something  in  his  look  and  voice 
that  gave  irresistible  conviction  to  his  wild 
words.  Conscious  mastery  was  in  all  about 
him.  I should  not  have  felt  surprised  to  see 
him  spring  up  into  the  elements. 

My  mind  grew  inflamed  with  his  presence. 
My  blood  burned  with  sensations,  for  which 
language  has  no  name — a thirst  of  power — 
a scorn  of  earth — a proud  and  fiery  longing 
for  the  command  of  the  hidden  mysteries  of 
nature.  I felt,  as  the  great  ancestor  of  man- 
kind might  have  felt,  when  the  voice  of  the 
tempter  told  him,  “ Ye  shall  he  even  as  gods.” 

“Give  me  your  powder,”  I exclaimed; 
“the  world  to  me  is  worthless:  with  man 
all  my  ties  are  broken  : let  me  live  in  the 
desert,  and  be  even  as  you  are ; give  me 
your  power.”  “My  power!”  he  repeated, 
with  a ghastly  laugh  that  rang  to  the  skies, 
and  was  echoed  round  the  wilderness  by 
what  seemed  voices  innumerable,  until  it 
died  away  in  a distant  groan.  “ Look  on 
this  forehead  !” — he  threw  back  the  corner 
of  his  mantle.  A furrow  was  drawn  round 
his  brow,  covered  with  gore,  and  gaping 
like  a fresh  wound.  “ Here,”  howled  he, 
“sat  the  diadem. — I was  Epiphanes.” 

“You,  Antiochus!  the  tyrant — the  perse- 
cutor— the  spoiler — the  accursed  of  Israel !” 
I bounded  backwards  in  sudden  horror. 

I saw  before  me  one  of  those  spirits  of  the 
evil  dead,  who  are  allowed  from  time  to  time 
to  re-appear  on  earth  in  the  body,  whether  of 
the  dead  or  the  living.  For  some  cause  that 
none  could  unfold,  Judea  had  been,  within  the 


last  few  years,  haunted  by  them  more  than 
for  centuries.  Strange  rites,  dangerously 
borrowed  from  the  idolaters,  were  resorted  to 
for  our  relief  from  this  new  terror:  the  pull- 
ing of  the  mandrake  at  the  eclipse  of  the 
moon — incantations — midnight  offerings— the 
root  of  Baaras,  that  was  said  to  flash  flame, 
and  kill  the  animal  that  drew  it  from  the 
ground.  Our  Sadducees  and  skeptics,  wise 
in  their  own  conceit,  declared  that  posssesion 
was  but  a human  disease,  a wilder  insanity. 
But,  with  the  rage  and  misery  of  madness, 
there  were  tremendous  distinctions  that  raised 
it  beyond  all  the  ravages  of  the  hurt  mind,  or 
the  afflicted  frame: — the  look,  the  language, 
the  horror  of  the  possessed,  were  above  man. 
They  defied  human  restraint;  they  lived  in 
wildernesses  where  the  very  insects  died  : the 
fiery  sun  of  the  East,  the  inclemency  of  the 
fiercest  winter,  had  no  power  to  break  down 
their  strength.  But  they  had  stronger  signs ; 
— they  spoke  of  things  to  which  the  wisdom 
of  the  wisest  is  folly — they  told  of  the  re- 
motest future  with  the  force  of  prophecy — 
they  gave  glimpses  of  a knowledge  brought 
from  realms  of  being  inaccessible  to  living 
man — last  and  loftiest  sign,  they  did  homage 
to  his  coming,  whom  a cloud  of  darkness, 
the  guilty  and  impenetrable  darkness  of  the 
heart,  had  veiled  from  my  unhappy  nation. — 
But  their  worship  was  terror — they  believed 
and  trembled. 

“Power — ” said  the  possessed,  and  his  large 
and  unmoving  eyes  seemed  lighting  up  with 
fire  from  within.  “ Power  you  shall  have,  and 
hate  it;  wealth  you  shall  have,  and  hate  it;  life 
you  shall  have,  and  hate  it:  yet  you  shall  know 
the  depths  of  the  condition  of  man.  You  shall 
be  the  wirm  among  a nation  of  worms — you 
shall  be  steeped  in  poverty  to  the  lips — you 
shall  undergo  the  bitterness  of  death  until — ” 
His  brow  suddenly  writhed,  he  gnashed  his 
teeth,  and  convulsively  sprang  from  the 
ground,  as  if  an  arrow  had  shot  through  him. 

The  current  of  his  thoughts  was  changed. 
Things  above  man  w'ere  not  to  be  uttered  to 
the  ear  unopened  by  the  grave.  “ Come,” 
said  he,  “son  of  misfortune,  emblem  of  the 
nation,  that  living  shall  die,  and  dying  shall 
live;  that  trampled  by  all,  shall  trample  upon 
all;  that  bleeding  from  a thousand  wmunds, 
shall  be  unhurt;  that  beggared,  shall  wield 
the  wealth  of  nations;  that  without  a name, 
shall  sway  the  council  of  kings;  that  without 
a city,  shall  inhabit  in  all  kingdoms;  that 
scattered  like  the  dust,  shall  be  bound  together 
like  the  rock  : that  perishing  by  ffle  sword,  by 
the  chain,  by  famine,  by  fire,  shall  be  imper- 
ishable, unnumbered,  glorious  as  the  stars  of 
heaven.” 

Overwhelmed  with  sensations,  rushing  in 
a flood  through  my  heart,  I had  cast  myself 
upon  the  ground  : the  flashing  of  the  fiery 
i eye  before  me  consumed  my  blood ; and 


20 


Salat  hiel. 


fainting,  I lay  with  my  face  upon  the  sand. 
But  his  words  were  deeply  heard  ; with 
every  sound  of  his  searching  voice  they 
struck  into  my  soul.  He  grasped  me;  and  J 
was  lifted  up  like  an  infant  in  his  grasp. 
“ Come,”  said  he,  “ and  see  what  is  reserved 
for  you  and  for  your  people.” 

He  darted  forward  with  a.  speed  that  took 
away  my  breath — he  ran — he  bounded — he 
flew.  “Now,  behold  !”  he  uttered  in  an  ac- 
cent as  composed  as  if  he  had  not  moved  a 
limb.  I looked,  and  found  myself  on  one  of 
the  hills  close  to  the  great  southern  gate  of 
Jerusalem.  Years  had  passed  since  I ven- 
tured so  nigh.  But  I now  gazed  on  the  city 
of  pomp  and  beauty,  with  an  involuntary 
wonder  that  I could  have  ever  deserted  a 
scene  so  lovely  and  so  loved. 

It  was  the  twilight  of  a summer  evening. 
Tower  and  wall  lay  bathed  in  a sea  of  purple ; ' 
the  Temple  rose  from  its  centre  like  an  isl- 
and of  light : the  host  of  heaven  came  riding 
up  the  blue  fields  above;  the  sounds  of  day 
died  in  harmony.  All  was  the  sweetness,  \ 
calmness,  and  splendor  of  a vision  painted  in 
the  clouds. 

“ There,”  said  the  possessed,  “ I was  mas- 
ter, conqueror,  avenger  : — yet  I was  but  the 
instrument  to  punish  your  furious  dissensions 
— your  guilty  abandonment  of  the  law  of 
your  leader — your  more  than  Gentile  apos- 
tacy  from  the  worship  of  Him,  who  is  to  be 
worshipped  with  more  than  the  blood  of  bulls 
and  goats.  A power  hidden  from  my  idola- 
trous eyes  went  before  me,  and  broke  down 
the  courage  of  your  people.  I marched 
through  your  gates  on  the  neck  of  the  god- 
less warrior;  I plundered  the  wealth  of  your 
rich  men,  made  worldly  by  their  wealth  ; I 
slew  your  priesthood,  already  the  betrayers 
of  their  altar;  I overthrew  your  places  of 
worship,  already  defiled;  f covered  the  ruins 
with  the  blood  of  swine;  I raised  idols  in  the 
sanctuary  ; I bore  away  the  golden  vessels 
of  the  temple,  and  gave  them  to  the  insult 
of  the  Syrian ; I slew  your  males,  I'  made 
captives  of  your  women : I abolished  your 
sacrifices,  and  pronounced  in  my  hour  of 
blasphemy,  that  within  the  walls  of  Jeru- 
salem the  flame  should  never  again  be  kin- 
dled to  the  Supreme.  The  deed  was  mine, 
but  the  cause  was  the  iniquity  of  your 
people.” 

The  history  of  devastation  roused  in  me 
those  feelings  native  to  the  .lew,  by  which  I 
had  been  taught  to  look  with  abhorrence  on 
the  devastator.  “ Let  me  be  gone,”  I ex- 
claimed, struggling  from  his  grasp.  “ Strange 
and  terrible  being,  let  me  hear  no  more  this 
outrage  to  God  and  man.  I am  guilty,  too 
guilty,  in  having  listened  to  you  for  a mo- 
ment.” He  laid  his  hand  upon  my  brow, 
and  I felt  my  strength  dissolve  at  the  touch.  - 


“Go,”  said  he,  “ but  be  first  a witness  of 
the  future.  A fiercer  destroyer  than  Epi- 
phanes  shall  come,  to  punish  a darker  crime 
than  ever  stained  your  forefathers.  A de- 
struction shall  come,  to  which  the  past  was 
the  sport  of  children.  Tower  and  wall,  cita- 
del and  temple,  shall  be  dust.  The  sword 
shall  do  its  work — the  chain  shall  do  its 
work — the  flame  shall  do  its  work.  Bad 
spirits  shall  rejoice;  good  spirits  shall  weep; 
Israel  shall  be  clothed  in  sackcloth  and  ashes 
for  a time  impenetrable  by  a created  eye. 
The  world  shall  exult,  trample,  scorn,  and 
j slay.  Blindness,  madness,  misery,  shall  be 
the  portion  of  the  people.  Now,  behold !” 

He  stood,  with  his  arms  stretched  out  to- 
wards the  temple.  All  before  me  was  tran- 
quility itself;  night  had  suddenly  fallen  deep- 
er than  usual ; the  stars  had  been  wrapped 
in  clouds  that  yet  gathered  without  a wind  ; 
a faint  tinge  of  light  from  the  summit  of 
Mount  Moriah,  the  gleam  of  the  never  ex- 
tinguished altar  of  the  Daily  Sacrifice,  alone 
marked  the  central  court  of  the  temple.  1 
turned  from  the  almost  death-like  stillness  of 
the  scene,  with  a look  of  involuntary  disbe- 
lief to  the  face  of  my  fearful  guide : even  in 
the  deep  darkness  every  feature  of  it  was 
strangely  visible. 

A low  murmur  from  the  city  caught  my 
ear ; it  rapidly  grew  loud,  various,  wild  : it 
was  soon  intermixed  with  the  clash  of  arms. 
Trumpets  now  rang:  I recognized  the 

charging  shout  of  the  Romans ; 1 heard  the 
tumultuous  and  mingled  roar  of  my  country- 
men in  return.  The  darkness  was  converted 
into  light;  torches  blazed  along  the  battle- 
ments and  turrets:  the  Tower  of  Antonia, 
the  Roman  citadel,  with  its  massy  bulwarks 
and  immense  altitude,  rose  from  a tossing  ex- 
panse of  flame  below  like  a collossal  funeral- 
pile  ; I could  see  on  its  summit  the  agitation 
and  alarm,  the  'rapid  - signals,  the  hasty 
snatching  up  of  spear  and  shield  of  the  gar- 
rison, which  that  night’s  vengeance  was  to 
offer  up  victims  on  the  pile.  The  roar  of 
battle  rose,  it  deepened  into  cries  of  agony, 
it  swelled  again  into  furious  exultation 

I thought  of  my  countrymen  butchered  by 
some  new  caprice  of  power;  of  my  kinsmen, 
perhaps  at  that  instant  involved  in  the  mas- 
sacre ; of  the  city,  every  stone  and  beam  of 
which  was  dear  to  my  embittered  heart, 
given  up  to  the  vengeance  of  the  idolater. 
The  prediction  of  its  ruin  was  in  my  ears; 
and  I longed  to  perish  with  my  tribe.  1 
panted  with  every  shout  that  burst  from  the 
battle  ; every  new  sheet  of  flame  that  rolled 
upwards  from  the  burning  houses  fevered  me ; 
I longed  to  rush  with  the  speed  of  the  whirl- 
wind. But  the  terrible  hand  was  upon  my  fore- 
head, and  I was  feeble  as  a broken  reed.  “ Be- 
hold,” said  the  possessed,  “ those  are  but  the 


Salat  hid. 


21 


beginnings  of  evil.”  I felt  a sudden  return  of 
my  strength  ; I looked  up — he  was  gone  ! 


CHAPTER  IX. 

I plunged  into  the  valley,  and  found  it 
filled  with  fugitives  incapable  from  terror  of 
giving  me  any  account  of  the  uproar.  Wo- 
men and  children,  hastily  thrown  on  the 
mules  and  camels,  continued  to  pour  through 
the  country.  The  road  wound  through  the 
intervals  of  the  hills,  and  though  sometimes 
approaching  near  enough  to  the  walls  to  be 
illuminated  by  the  blaze  of  the  torches  and 
beacons,  yet  from  its  general  darkness  and 
intricacy,  left  me  to  make  my  way  by  the 
sounds  of  the  conflict.  But  I was  quickly 
within  reach  of  ample  evidence  of  what  was 
doing  in  that  night  of  havoc.  The  bend  of 
the  road,  from  which  the  first  view  of  the 
grand  portico  was  seen,  had  been  the  rally- 
ing point  to  the  multitude  driven  out  by  the 
unexpected  charge  of  the  garrison.  The 
tide  of  the  flight  had  thence  ebbed  and  flow- 
ed, and  I found  the  spot  covered  with  the 
dead  and  dying.  In  my  haste  I stumbled, 
and  fell  over  one  of  the  wounded  ; he  groan- 
ed, and  prayed  me  for  a cup  of  water  to  cool 
the  thirst  that  parched  him.  I knew  the 
voice  of  Jairus,  one  of  the  boldest  of  our 
mountaineers,  and  bore  him  to  the  hill-side, 
that  he  might  not  be  trampled  by  the  crowd. 
He  faintly  thanked  me,  and  said,  “ If  you  be 
a man  of  Israel,  fly  to  Eleazer.  Take  this 
spear : — another  moment  may  be  too  late.”  I 
seized  the  spear,  and  sprang  forward. 

The  multitude  had  repelled  the  Romans, 
and  forced  them  up  the  broad  central  street 
of  the  city.  But  a reinforcement  from  the 
Tower  of  Antonia  joined  the  troops,  and 
were  driving  back  the  victors  with  ruinous 
disorder.  I heard  the  war-cries  of  the  tribes 
as  they  called  to  the  rescue  and  the  charge. 
“Onward,  Judah;”  “Ho,  for  Zebulon 
“ Glory  to  Naphtali.”  I thought  of  the  times 
of  Jewish  triumph,  and  saw  before  me  the 
warriors  of  the  Maccabees. 

Nerved  with  new  sensations,  the  strong 
instincts  which  make  the  war-horse  paw  the 
ground  at  the  trumpet,  and  make  men  rush 
headlong  upon  death ; heightened  by  the 
stinging  recollections  of  our  days  of  freedom, 
I forced  my  path  through  the  multitude  that 
tossed  and  whirled  like  the  eddies  of  the 
ocean.  I found  my  kinsmen  in  front,  bat- 
tling desperately  against  the  long  spears  of  a 
Roman  column,  that,  solid  as  iron,  and  favor- 
ed by  the  higher  ground,  was  pressing  down 
all  before  it.  The  resistance  was  heroic,  but 
unavailing ; and  when  I burst  forward,  I 
found  at  my  side  nothing  but  faces  black 


with  despair,  or  covered  with  wounds.  In 
front  was  a wall  of  shields  and  helmets,  glar- 
ing in  the  light  of  the  conflagration  that  was 
now  rapidly  spreading  on  all  sides.  The  air 
was  scorching,  the  smoke  rolling  against  us 
in  huge  volumes;  blindness,  burning,  and 
loss  of  blood,  were  consuming  the  multitude. 
But  what  is  in  the  strength  of  the  soldier,  or 
the  bravery  of  discipline,  to  daunt  the  despe- 
rate energy  and  regardless  valor  of  men 
fighting  tor  their  country — and  above  all 
men,  of  the  Israelite,  fighting  in  the  sight  of 
the  profaned  Temple  1 The  native  frame, 
exercised  by  the  habits  of  our  temperate  and 
agricultural  life,  was  one  of  surpassing  mus- 
cular strength ; and  man  for  man  thrown 
naked  into  the  field,  we  could  have  torn  the 
Roman  garrison  into  fragments  for  the  fowls 
of  the  air.  But  their  arms,  and  the  help 
which  they  received  from  the  nature  of  the 
ground,  were  too  strong  for  the. assault  of 
men  fighting  with  no  shield  but  their  cloaks, 
and  no  arms  but  a pilgrim’s  staff  or  some 
weapon  caught  up  from  a dead  enemy. 

Yet  to  me  there  came  a wild  impression, 
that  this  night  was  to  make  or  unmake  me; 
an  undefined  feeling,  that  in  the  shedding 
of  my  blood  in  the  sight  of  the  Temple,  there 
might  be  some  palliative,  some  washing 
away  of  my  crime.  I sprang  forward  be- 
tween the  combatants,  and  defied  the  boldest 
of  the  legionaries  ; the  battle  paused  for  an 
instant,  and  my  name  was  shouted  in  exulta- 
tion by  the  voices  of  my  tribe.  A shower  of 
arrows  from  the  battlements  was  poured 
upon  me.  1 felt  myself  wounded,  but  the 
feeling  only  roused  me  to  bolder  daring. 
Tearing  off  my  gory  mantle,  I lifted  it  on 
the  point  of  my  javelin,  and  with  the  poinard 
in  my  right  hand,  aloud  devoted  the  Romans 
to  ruin  in  the  name  of  the  Temple. 

The  enemy,  in  their  native  superstition 
shrank  from  a being  who  looked  the  mes- 
senger of  angry  Heaven.  The  naked  figure, 
the  blood  streaming  from  my  wounds,  the 
wild  and  mystic  sound  of  my  words,  reminded 
them  of  the  diviners  that  had  often  shook 
their  souls  in  their  own  land.  I burst  into 
the  circle  of  spears,  waving  my  standard, 
and  calling  on  my  nation  to  follow.  I smote 
to  the  right  and  left.  The  entrance  that  I 
had  made  in  the  iron  bulwark  was  instantly 
filled  by  the  multitude.  All  discipline  gave 
way.  The  weight  of  the  Roman  armor  was 
ruinous  to  men  grappled  hand  to  hand  by  the 
light  and  sinewy  agility  of  the  Jew.  We 
rushed  on,  trampling  down  cuirass  and  buck- 
ler, till  we  drove  the  enemy  like  sheep  before 
us  to  the  first  gate  of  the  Tower  of  Antonia. 
Arrows,  lances,  stones  in  showers  from  the 
battlements,  could  not  stop  the  triumphant 
valor  of  the  people.  We  rushed  on  to  assault 
the  gate.  Sabinus,  the  tribune  of  the  legion, 


22 


Salathiel. 


rallied  the  remnant  of  the  fugitives,  and  i 
under  cover  of  the  battlements,  made  a last 
attempt  to  change  the  fortunes  of  the  night. 
Exhausted  as  I was,  bruised  and  bleeding,  | 
my  feet  and  hands  lacerated  with  the  burn- 
ing ruins,  my  tongue  cleaving  to  my  mouth , 
with  deadly  thirst,  1 rushed  upon  him.  He 
had  been  cruelly  known  to  the  Jews,  a ty- 
rant, and  plunderer,  for  the  many  years  of 
his  command.  No  trophy  of  the  battle  could 
have  been  so  cheering  to  them  as  his  head. 
But  he  had  the  bravery  of  his  country;  and 
it  was  now  augmented  by  rage.  The  de- 
spair of  being  able  to  clear  himself  before  im- 
perial jealousy  for  that  night’s  disasters,  must 
have  made  life  worthless  to  him.  He  bound- 
ed on  the  drawbridge  at  my  cry.  Our  meet- 
ing was  brief;  my  poniard  broke  on  his 
cuirass:  his  falchion  descended  with  a blow 
that  would  have  cloven  a head-piece  of  steel. 
I sprang  aside,  and  caught  it  on  the  shaft  of 
my  javelin  standard,  which  cut  it  right  in 
two.  I returned  the  blow  with  the  frag- 
ment. The  iron  pierced  his  throat:  he 
flung  up  his  hands,  staggered  back,  and 
dropped  dead.  The  roar  of  Israel  rent  the 
heavens. 

Scarcely  more  alive  than  the  trunk  at  my 
feet,  I fell  back  among  the  throng.  But 
whatever  may  be  the  envy  of  courts,  no  injus- 
tice is  done  in  the  field.  The  successful  leader 
is  sure  of  his  reward  from  the  gallant  spirits 
that  he  had  conducted  to  victory.  I was 
hailed  with  shouts  of  congratulation — I was 
lifted  on  the  shoulder  of  the  multitude;  the 
men  of  Naphtali  proudly  claimed  me  for 
their  own ; and  when  I clasped  the  hand  of 
my  brave  friend  Jubal,  whom  I found  in  the 
foremost  rank,  covered  with  dust  and  blood, 
he  exclaimed,  “ Remember  Barak ; remem- 
ber Mount  Tabor.” 

But  l looked  round  in  vain  for  one  whom  I 
had  parted  with  but  a few  days  before,  and 
without  whom  I scarcely  dared  return  to 
Miriam.  Her  noble  brother  was  not  to  be 
seen;  had  he  fallen  1 Jubal  understood  rny 
countenance,  and  mournfully  pointed  to  the 
citadel,  which  rose  above  us,  frowning  down 
on  our  impotent  rage.  “Eleazer  is  a pii- 
soner'!”  I interrogated.  “There  can  be  no 
hope  for  him  from  the  hypocritical  clemency 
of  those  barbarians  of  Italy,”  was  the  answer. 
“ It  was  with  him  that  the  insurrection  began. 
He  had  gone  up  to  lay  his  offeringon  the  altar: 
—some  new  Roman  insolence  commanded 
that  our  people  should  offer  a sacrifice  to  the 
image  of  the  emperor,  to  the  polluted,  blood- 
thirsty tyrant  of  Rome  and  mankind.  Elea- 
zar  shrank  from  this  act  of  horror.  The  tri- 
bune, even  that  dog  of  Rome,  whose  tongue 
you  have  silenced — so  rnay  perish  all  the 
enemies  of  the  Holy  City  ! — commanded  that 
our  chieftain  should  be  scourged  at  the  altar. 


[The  cords  were  round  his  arms;  the  spear- 
men were  at  his  back  ; they  marched  him 
through  the  streets,  calling  on  all  the  Jews 
to  look  upon  the  punishment  that  was  equal- 
ly reserved  for  all.  Our  indignation  burst 
forth  in  groans  and  prayers.  I hastily 
gathered  the  males  of  our  tribe  : — we  snatch- 
ed up  what  arms  we  could,  and  rushing  to 
his  rescue,  when  we  saw  him  sweeping  the 
guard  before  him.  He  had  broken  his  bands 
by  a desperate  effort.  We  fell  upon  the  pur- 
suers, and  put  them  to  the  sword.  Blood 
| was  now  drawn,  and  we  knew  the  vengeance 
of  the  Romans.  To  break  up  and  scatter 
through  the  country,  would  have  been  only 
to  give  our  throats  to  the  cavalry.  Eleazar 
determined  to  anticipate  the  attack.  Mes- 
sengers were  sent  round  to  the  leaders  of 
the  tribes,  and  the  seizure  of  the  Roman  for- 
tress was  resolved  on.  We  gathered  at 
night-fall,  and  drove  in  the  out- posts.  But 
the  garrison  were  prepared.  We  were  beat- 
en down  by  a storm  of  darts  and  javelins, 
and  must  have  been  undone  but  for  your  ap- 
pearing. In  the  first  onset,  Eleazer,  while 
cheering  us  to  the  charge,  was  struck  by  a 
i stone  from  an  engine.  I saw  him  fall  among 
a circle  of  the  enemy,  and  hastened  to-  his 
rescue.  But  when  I reached  the  spot,  he 
was  gone,  my  last  sight  of  him  was  at  yonder 
gate,  as  he  was  borne  in,  waving  his  hand — 
his  last  farewell  to  Naphtali.” 

Deep  silence  followed  his  broken  accents; 
he  hung  his  head  on  his  hand,  and  the  tears 
glistened  through  his  fingers.  The  circle 
of  brave  men  round  us  wrapped  their  heads 
in  their  mantles.  I could  not  contain  the 
bitterness  of  my  soul.  Years  had  cemented 
my  friendship  for  the  virtuous  and  generous 
hearted  brother  of  my  beloved.  He  had 
borne  with  my  waywardness: — he  had  done 
all  that  man  could  do  to  soften  my  heart,  to 
enlighten  my  darkness,  to  awake  me  to  a 
wisdom  surpassing  rubies.  I lifted  up  my 
voice  and  wept. 

The  brazen  blast  of  a trumpet  from  the 
battlements  suddenly  raised  all  our  eyes. 
Troops  moved  slowly  along  the  walls  of  the 
fortress ; they  ascended  the  central  tower. 
Their  ranks  opened,  and  in  the  midst  was 
seen  by  the  torch-light  a man  of  Israel. 
They  had  brought  him  to  that  place  of  ex- 
posure, in  the  double  cruelty  of  increasing 
liis  torture  and  ours  by  death  in  the  presence 
of  the  people.  An  universal  groan  burst 
from  below.  He  felt  it,  and  meekly  pointed 
with  his  hand  to  Heaven,  where  no  tortures 
(shall  disturb  the  peace  of  the  departed.  The 
startling  sound  of  the  trumpet  stung  the  ear 
again;  it  was  the  signal  for  execution.  I 
saw  the  archer  advance  to  take  aim  at  him. 
He  drew  the  shaft.  Almost  unconsciously 
I I seized  a sling  from  the  hands  of  one  of  our 


Salathiel. 


23 


tribe.  I whirled  it.  The  archer  dropped 
dead,  with  the  arrow  still  on  his  bow. 

To  those  who  had  not  seen  the  cause, 
the  effect  was  almost  a miracle.  The  air 
pealed  with  acclamation  ; a thousand  slings 
instantly  swept  the  escort  from  the  battle- 
ments ; the  walls  were  left  naked  ; — ladders 
were  raised, — ropes  were  slung, — axes  were 
brandished  ; the  activity  of  our  hunters  and 
mountaineers  availed  itself  of  every  crevice 
and  projection  of  the  walls ; they  climbed  on 
each  other’s  shoulders ; they  leaped  from 
point  to  point,  where  the  antelope  could  have 
scarcely  found  footing  ; they  ran  over  narrow 
and  fenced  walls  and  curtains,  where,  in 
open  daylight,  and  with  his  senses  awake  to 
danger,  no  man  could  have  moved.  Torches 
without  number  showered  upon  all  that  was 
combustible.  At  length  the  central  maga- 
zine took  fire. 

We  now  fought  no  longer  in  darkness; 
the  flames  rolled  sheet  on  sheet  above  our 
heads,  throwing  light  over  the  whole  horizon. 
We  were  soon  in  no  want  of  soldiers;  the 
tribes  poured  in  at  the  sight  of  conflagration  ; 
and  no  valor  could  resist  their  enthusiasm. 
Some  cried  out,  they  saw  beings  mightier 
than  man  descending  to  fight  the  battle  of 
the  favored  nation  : — some,  that  the  day  of 
Joshua  had  returned,  and  that  a light  of  more 
than  earthly  lustre  was  visible  in  the  burn- 
ing ! But  the  battle  was  no  longer  doubtful. 
The  Romans,  reduced  in  number  by  the 
struggle  in  the  streets,  exhausted  by  the  last 
attack,  and  aware,  from  the  destruction  of 
their  magazines,  that  their  most  successful 
resistance  must  be  ended  by  famine,  called 
out  for  terms.  I had  but  one  answer — “The 
life  of  Eleazar.”  The  drawbridge  fell,  and 
he  appeared ; — the  next  moment  he  was  in 
my  arms ! 

The  garrison  marched  out.  I restrained 
the  violence  of  their  conquerors,  irritated  by 
the  memory  of  years  of  insult.  Not  a hair 
of  a Roman  head  was  touched.  They  were 
led  down  to  the  valley  of  Kedron  ; were  dis- 
armed, and  thence  sent  without  delay  under 
a safeguard  to  their  countrymen  in  Idumea. 
In  one  night  the  Holy  City  was  cleared  of 
every  foot  of  the  idolater. 


CHAPTER  X. 

But  while  the  people  were  in  a state  of 
the  wildest  triumph,  the  joy  of  their  leaders 
was  tempered  by  many  formidable  reflections. 
The  power  of  the  enemy  was  still  unshaken  : 
the  surprise  of  a single  garrison,  though  a! 
distinguished  evidence  of  what  might  be 
done  by  native  valor,  was  trivial  on  the  scale  j 
of  a war  that  must  be  conducted  against  the. 


whole  power  of  the  mistress  of  the  civilized 
world.  The  policy  of  Rome  was  known  : 
she  never  gave  up  a conquest  while  it  could 
be  retained  by  the  most  lavish  and  perse- 
vering expenditure  of  her  strength.  Her 
treasury  would  be  stripped  of  every  talent, 
and  Italy  left  without  a soldier,  before  she 
would  surrender  the  most  fruitless  spot,  an 
acre  of  sand,  or  a point  of  rock  in  Judea. 

I went  forth,  but  not  among  the  leaders, 
nor  among  the  people  ; I turned  away  equal- 
ly from  the  council  and  the  triumph.  A 
deeper  feeling  urged  me  to  wander  round 
those  courts  where  my  spirit  so  often  turned 
in  my  exile.  The  battle  had  reached  even 
there,  and  the  pollution  of  blood  was  on  the 
consecrated  ground.  The  Roman  soldiers 
had,  in  their  advance,  driven  the  people  to 
take  refuge  in  the  cloisters  of  the  temple; 
and  the  dead  lying  thickly  among  the  col- 
umns, showed  how  fierce  even  that  brief  and 
partial  struggle  had  been.  With  a torch  in 
my  hand,  I trod  through  those  heaps  of  what 
once  was  man,  to  have  one  parting  look  at 
the  scene  where  I had  passed  so  many  hap- 
py and  innocent  hours.  I stood  before  the 
porch  of  my  cloister,  almost  listening  for  the 
sound  of  the  familiar  voices  within.  The 
long  interval  of  time  was  compressed  into  an 
instant. 

I awoke  from  the  reverie,  with  a smile  at 
the  idleness  of  human  fancy,  and  struck  upon 
the  door.  There  was  no  answer;  but  the 
bolts,  loosened  by  time,  gave  way,  and  1 was 
again  the  master  of  my  mansion.  It  was 
uninhabited  since  my  flight;  why,  I could 
not  conceive.  But,  as  J passed  from  room  to 
room,  I found  them  all  as  if  they  had  been 
left  but  the  hour  before.  The  embroidery, 
which  Miriam  wrought  with  a skill  distin- 
guished even  among  the  daughters  of  the 
temple,  was  still  fixed  in  its  frame  before  the 
silken  couch  ; there  lay  the  harp  that  relieved 
her  hours  of  graceful  toil.  The  tissued  san- 
dals were  waiting  for  the  delicate  feet.  The 
veil,  the  vermilion  mantle  that  designated 
her  rank,  the  tabret,  the  armlets  and  neck- 
laces of  precious  stones,  still  hung  upon  the 
sofas,  untouched  by  the  spoiler. 

There  was  but  one  evidence  of  time  among 
them — but  that  bore  its  bitter  moral.  It  was 
the  dust,  that  hung  heavy  upon  the  curtains 
of  precious  needlework,  and  dimmed  the 
glitter  of  the  gems,  and  chilled  the  richness 
of  the  Tyrian  purple: — decay,  that  teacher 
without  a tongue,  the  lonely  emblem  of  what 
the  bustle  of  mankind  must  come  to  at  last; 
the  dull  memorial  of  the  proud,  the  beautiful, 
the  brave  ! All  was  the  silence  of  the  tomb  ! 
With  the  torch  in  my  hand,  throwing  its  red 
reflection  on  the  walls  and  rich  remem- 
brances round  me,  I sat  like  the  mummy  of  an 
Egyptian  king  in  the  sepulchre, — in  the  midst 


24 


Salathiel. 


of  the  things  that  I had  loved,  yet  divorced 
from  them  by  an  irresistible  law  for  ever  ! 

I impatiently  broke  forth  into  the  open  air. 
The  stars  were  waning;  a grey  streak  of 
dawn  was  whitening  the  summit  of  the 
Mount  of  Olives.  As  1 passed  by  Herod’s 
palace,  and  lifted  my  eyes  in  wonder  at  the 
unusual  sight  of  a group  of  Jews  keeping 
watch,  where,  but  the  day  before,  the  Roman 
governor  lorded  it,  and  none  but  the  Roman 
soldier  durst  stand;  I saw  Jubal  hurrying 
out,  and  making  signs  to  me  through  the 
crowd  from  the  esplanade  above.  I was  in- 
stantly recognized,  and  all  made  way  for  my 
ascent  up  those  gorgeous  and  .almost  count- 
less steps  of  porphyry,  that  formed  one  of  the 
wonders  of  Jerusalem. 

“ We  have  been  in  alarm  about  you,”  said 
he,  hastily,  “ but,  come  to  the  council;  wc 
have  wasted  half  the  night  in  perplexing 
ourselves.  Some  are  timid,  and  call  out  for 
submission  on  any  terms ; some  are  rash, 
and  would  plunge  us  unprepared  into  the 
Roman  camps.  There  are  obviously  many 
who,  without  regard  for  the  hope  of  freedom, 
or  the  holiness  of  our  cause,  look  upon  the 
crisis  only  as  a means  of  personal  aggrandize- 
ment. And  lastly,  we  are  not  without  our 
traitors,  who  confound  all  opinions,  and  who 
are  making  work  for  Roman  gold  and  iron. 
Your  voice  is  entitled  to  weight.  Speak  at 
once,  and  speak  your  mind;  your  tribe  will 
support  it  with  their  lives.” 

The  council  was  held  in  the  amphitheatre 
of  the  palace.  The  heads  of  families  and 
principal  men  of  the  people  had  crowded  into 
it,  until  the  council,  instead  of  the  privacy 
of  a few  chieftains,  assumed  the  look  of  a 
great  popular  assembly.  Thirty  thousand 
had  forced  themselves  into  the  seats;  every 
bosom  responding  to  every  accent  of  the  ora- 
tor, a mighty  instrument  vibrating  through 
all  its  strings  to  the  master’s  hand.  Accus- 
tomed as  I was,  by  the  festivals  of  our  nation, 
to  the  sight  of  great  bodies  of  men  swayed 
by  a common  impulse,  I stopped  in  astonish- 
ment at  the  entrance  of  the  collossal  circle. 
Three-fourths  of  it  were  almost,  totally  dark, 
giving  a shadowy  intimation  of  human  beings 
but  by  the  light  of  a few  scattered  torches, 
or  the  rising  dawn  that  rounded  the  extreme 
height  with  a ring  of  pale  and  moon-like 
rays.  But  in  the  centre  of  the  arena  a fire 
blazed  bright,  and  showed  the  leaders  of  the 
deliberation  seated  in  the  splendid  chairs 
once  assigned  for  the  Roman  governors  and 
legionary  tribunes,  Eleazar  filled  the  tem- 
porary throne. 

The  chief  man  of  the  land  of  Ephraim  was 
haranguing  the  assembly  as  I entered.  “ Go 
to  war  with  Rome!”  pronounced  he;  “you 
might  as  well  go  to  war  with  the  ocean,  for 
her  power  is  as  wide ; you  might  as  well 


fight  the  storm,  for  her  vengeance  is  as 
rapid ; you  might  as  well  call  up  the  armies 
of  Judea  against  the  pestilence,  for  her  sword 
is  as  sweeping,  as  sudden,  and  as  sure.  Who 
but  madmen  would  go  to  war  without  allies? 
and  where  are  yours  to  be  looked  for?  Rome 
is  the  mistress  of  all  nations.  Would  you 
make  a war  of  fortresses?  Rome  has  in  her 
possession  all  your  walled  towns.  Every 
tower  from  Dan  to  Beersheba  has  a Roman 
banner  on  its  battlements.  Would  you  meet 
her  in  the  plain  ! Where  are  your  horse- 
men ? The  Roman  cavalry  would  be  upon 
you  before  you  could  draw  your  swords;  and 
would  trample  your  boldest  into  the  sand. 
Would  you  make  the  campaign  in  the  moun- 
tains? Where  are  your  magazines?  The 
Roman  generals  would  disdain  to  waste  a 
drop  of  blood  upon  you ; they  would  only 
have  So  block  up  the  passes,  and  leave  famine 
to  do  the  rest.  Harvest  is  not  come  ; and  if 
it  were,  you  dare  not  descend  to  the  plains 
to  gather  it.  You  are  told  to  rely  upon  the 
strength  of  the  country — Have  the  fiery 
sands  of  the  desert,  or  the  marshes  of  Ger- 
many or  the  snows  or  Scythia,  or  the  stormy 
waters  of  Britain,  defended  them  ? Does 
Egypt,  within  your  sight,  give  you  no  ex- 
ample? A land  of  inexhaustible  fertility,’ 
crowded  with  seven  millions  and  a half  of 
men  passionately  devoted  to  their  country, 
[Opulent,  brave,  and  sustained  by  the  countless 
millions  of  Africa,  with  a country  defended 
on  both  flanks  by  the  wilderness,  in  the  rear 
inaccessible  to  the  Roman,  exposing  the 
narrowest  and  most  defensible  front  of  any 
! nation  on  earth  : yet  Egypt,  in  spite  of  the 
Lybian  valor,  and  the  Greek  genius,  is  garri- 
soned at  this  hour  by  a single  Roman  legion! 
The  Roman  bird,  grasping  the  thunder  in  its 
talons,  and  touching  with  one  wing  the  sun- 
rise and  the  other  the  sunset,  throws  its 
shadow  over  the  world.  Shall  we  call  it  to 
stoop  upon  us?  Must  we  spread  for  it  the 
new  banquet  of  the  blood  of  Israel?” 

How  different  is  the  power  of  the  orator 
upon  men  sitting  in  the  common,  peaceful 
circumstances  of  public  assemblage,  from  its 
tyranny  over  minds  anxious  about  their  own 
fates ! All  that  I had  ever  seen  of  public 
excitement  was  stone  and  ice,  to  the  burning 
interest  that  hung  upon  every  word  of  the 
speaker.  The  name  of  Onias  was  famous  in 
Judea,  but  I now  saw  him  for  the  first  time. 
His  had  been  a life  of  ambition,  compassed 
often  by  desperate  means,  and  woe  be  to  the 
man  who  stood  between  him  and  power. 
By  the  dagger,  and  by  subserviency  to  the  Ro- 
man procurators,  he  had  risen  to  the  highest 
rank  below  the  throne.  In  the  distractions 
of  a time  which  broke  off  the  regular  succes- 
sion of  the  sons  of  Aaron,  Onias  had  even 
been  high-priest;  but  Eleazar,  heading  the 


Salalhiel. 


25 


popular  indignation,  had  expelled  him  from 
the  temple,  after  one  month  of  troubled ! 
supremacy.  I could  read  his  history  in  the! 
haughty  figure,  and  daring,  yet  wily,  vis- j 
age,  that  stood  in  their  bold  relief  before  the  | 
flame. 

But,  to  the  assemblage,  his  declamation 
had  infinite  power;  they  listened  as  to  the 
words  of  life  and  death  ; they  had  come,  not 
to  delight  their  ears  with  the  periods  of  the! 
orator,  but  to  hear  what  they  must  do  to  es-; 
cape  that  inexorable  fury,  which  might  with-! 
in  a few  days  or  hours  be  let  loose  upon 
every  individual  head.  All  was  alternately 
the  deepest  silence,  and  the  most  tumultuous 
agitation.  At  his  strong  appeals,  they  writh- 
ed their  athletic  forms,  they  gnashed  their 
teeth,  they  tore  their  hair;  some  crouched  to 
the  ground  with  their  faces  buried  in  their 
hands,  as  if  shutting  out  the  coming  horrors  ; 
some  started  upright,  brandishing  their 
rude  weapons,  and  tossing  their  naked 
limbs  in  gestures  of  defiance ; some  sat  bend- 
ing down,  and  throwing  back  their  long  locks, 
that  not  a syllable  might  escape;  others 
knelt,  with  their  quivering  hands  clasped, 
and  their  pallid  countenance  turned  up  in 
agony  of  prayer. 

Many  had  been  wounded,  and  their  fore- 
heads and  limbs  hastily  bound  up  were  still 
stained  with  gore.  Turbans  and  robes  rent 
and  discolored  with  dust  and  burning  were 
on  every  side,  and  the  whole  immense  multi- 
tude bore  the  look  of  men  who  had  just 
struggled  out  of  some  great  calamity,  to  find 
themselves  on  the  verge  of  one  still  more 
irremediable. 

The  orator  found  that  his  impression  was 
made ; and  he  hastened  to  the  close.  For 
this  he  reserved  the  sting.  “ If  it  be  the  de- 
sire of  those  who  seek  the  downfall  of  Judah 
that  we  should  go  to  war ; let  it  be  the  first 
wisdom  of  those  who  seek  its  safety,  to  dis- 
appoint, to  defy,  and  to  denounce  them.” 
The  words  were  followed  by  a visible  agi- 
tation among  the  hearers.  “ Let  an  embassy 
be  instantly  sent  to  the  proconsul,”  said  he, 

“ lamenting  the  excesses  of  the  night,  and 
offering  hostages  for  peace.”  The  silence 
grew  breathless;  the  orator  wrapped  in  his 
robe,  and  bending  his  head  like  a tiger 
crouching-,  waited  for  the  work  of  passions; 
then  suddenly  starting  up,  and  fixing  his 
stormy  gaze  full  on  Eleazar,  thundered  out, 

“ And  at  the  head  of  those  hostages  be  sent 
the  incendiary  who  caused  this  night’s  havoc, 
and  sent  in  chains  !” 

The  words  were  received  with  fierce  ap- 
plause by  the  assemblage ; and  crowds  rush- 
ed into  the  arena,  to  enforce  them  by  the 
seizure  of  Eleazar.  I glanced  at  him  ; his 
life  hung  by  a hair,  but  not  a feature  of  his 
noble  countenance  was  disturbed : I sprj.ng 


j upon  the  pavement  at  the  foot  of  the  throne ; 
| every  moment  was  precious  ; the  multitude 
were  Taging  with  the  fury  of  wild  beasts. 
My  voice  was  at  length  heard  ; the  name  of 
Salathie!  had  become  powerful,  and  the  tu- 
mult partially  subsided.  My  words  were  few, 
but  they  came  from  the  heart.  I asked  them, 
was  it  to  be  thought  of,  that  men  should  de- 
liver up  men  of  their  own  nation,  of  their 
purest  blood,  the  last  scions  of  the  mightiest 
families  of  Israel,  into  the  hands  of  the  idol- 
ater 1 and  for  what  crime  1 For  an  act 
•which  every  true  Israelite  would  glory  to 
have  done;  for  rescuing  the  altar  of  the 
living  God  from  pollution.  1 bade  them  be- 
ware of  dipping  their  hands  in  righteous 
blood  for  the  gratification  of  a revenge,  that 
had  for  twenty  years  poisoned  the  breast  of 
a hoary  traitor  to  his  priesthood  and  his 
country. 

“ We  were  threatened  with  the  irresistible 
power  of  Rome.  Were  we  to  forget  that 
Rome  was  at  this  moment  torn  with  internal 
miseries,  her  provinces  in  revolt,  her  senate 
decimated,  her  citizens  turned  into  a mass 
of  jailers  and  prisoners ; and,  darkest  sign 
of  degradation,  that  Nero  was  upon  her 
throne  I” 

“ Whom,”  said  I,  “ have  we  conquered  this 
night!  a Roman  army.  Where  have  we 
conquered  them  ! in  the  midst  of  their  walls 
and  machines.  By  whom  was  the  conquest 
achieved  I By  the  unarmed,  undisciplined, 
unguided  men  of  Israel.  The  shepherd  and 
the  tiller  of  the  ground  with  but  the  staff  and 
sling  smote  the  cuirassed  Roman,  as  the  son 
of  Jesse  smote  the  Philistine  !” 

The  native  bravery  of  the  people  lived 
again,  and  they  shouted,  in  the  language  of 
the  temple,  “ Glory  to  the  King  of  Israel ! 
Glory  to  the  God  of  David  !” 

Onias  saw  the  tide  turning,  and  started 
from  his  seat  to  address  the  assembly;  but 
he  was  overpowered  with  outcries  of  anger. 
Furious  at  the  loss  of  his  fame  and  his  re- 
venge, he  rushed  through  the  arena  towards 
the  spot  where  I stood.  Jubal,  ever  gallant 
and  watchful,  bounded  from  my  side,  and 
seized  the  traitor’s  hand  in  the  act  of  un- 
sheathing a dagger;  he  wrested  the  weapon 
from  him,  and,  at  a sign  from  me,  was  ready 
to  have  plunged  it  into  his  heart.  Eleazar’s 
sonorous  voice  was  then  first  heard.  “ Let 
no  violence  be  done  upon  that  slave  of  his 
passions.  No  Jewish  blond  must  stain  our 
holy  cause.  Return,  Onias,  to  your  tribe, 
and  give  the  rest  of  your  days  to  repent- 
ance.” Jubal  cast  the  baffled  homicide  from 
his  gTasp  far  into  the  crowd. 

The  universal  echo  was  war.  “Ruin  to 
the  idolater.  War  for  the  temple.”  “ War,” 
I exclaimed,  11  is  wisdom,  honor,  security. 
Let  us  bow  our  necks  again,  and  we  shall  be 


26 


Salat  hiel. 


rewarded  by  the  axe.  The  Romans  never! 
forgive,  until  the  hrave  man  who  resists,  is 
either  a slave  or  a corpse  ; the  work  of  this 
night  has  put  us  beyond  pardon  ; and  our  only 
hope  is  in  arms,  the  appeal  to  that  sovereign 
justice  before  which  nothing  is  strong  but 
virtue,  truth,  and  patriotism.  War  is  inevi- 
table.” 

My  words,  few  as  they  were,  rekindled  the 
chilled  ardor  of  the  national  heart.  They 
were  followed  by  shouts  for  instant  battle. 
“ War  against  the  world,  liberty  to  Israel.” 
Some  voices  began  a hymn  ; the  habits  of 
the  people  prepared  them  for  this  powerful 
mode  of  expressing  their  sympathies.  The 
whole  assembly  spontaneously  stood  up,  and 
joined  in  the  hymn.  The  magnificent  invo- 
cation of  David,  “ Let  God  arise,  and  let  his 
enemies  be  scattered,”  ascended  in  solemn 
harmonies  on  the  wings  of  the  morning.  It 
was  heard  over  the  awaking  city,  and  an- 
swered ; the  chant  of  glory  spread  to  the  en- 
campments on  the  surrounding  hills;  and  in 
every  pause,  we  heard  the  responses  rolling 
on  the  air  in  rich  thunder. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

The  result  of  our  deliberation  was,  that 
Israel  should  be  summoned  to  make  a last 
grand  effort;  that  Jerusalem  should  be 
left  with  a strong  garrison  as  the  centre 
of  the  armies;  and  that  every  chieftain 
should  set  forth  to  stir  up  the  energies  of  his 
people. 

Eleazar  and  his  kinsmen  were  instantly 
upon  the  road  to  the  mountains;  and  all  was 
haste,  and  that  mixture  of  anxiety  and  anima- 
tion which  makes  all  other  life  tasteless  and 
colorless  to  the  warrior.  With  what  new 
vividness  did  the  coming  conflict  invest 
the  varied  and  romantic  country,  through 
which  he  had  already  journeyed  so  often ! 
The  hill,  the  marble  ravine,  the  superb 
sweep  of  forest,  that  we  once  looked  on  but 
with  the  vague  indulgence  of  a picturesque 
eye,  now  filled  us  with  the  vision  of  camps 
and  battles.  Hunters  of  the  lion,  we  had 
felt  something  of  this  interest  in  tracing  the 
ground  where  we  were  to  combat  the  kingly 
savage.  But  what  were  the  triumphs  of  the 
chase  to  the  mighty  chances  of  that  struggle 
in  which  a kingdom  was  to  be  the  field,  and 
the  Roman  glory  the  victim  ! 

Man  is  belligerent  by  nature,  and  the 
thought  of  war  summons  up  sensations  and 
even  faculties  within  hjm,  that  in  the  com- 
mon course  of  life  would  have  been  no  more 


discoverable  than  the  bottom  of  the  sea;  the 
moral  earthquake  must  come  to  strip  the 
bosom  to  our  gaze.  Even  EleaZar’s  calm 
and  grave  wisdom  felt  the  spirit  of  the  time, 
and  he  reasoned  on  the  probabilities  of  the 
struggle,  with  the  lofty  ardor  of  a king  pre- 
paring to  win  a new  throne.  Jubal’s  san- 
guine temper  was  irrestrainable ; he  was  the 
war-horse  in  the  sight  of  the  banners;  his 
bronzed  cheek  glowed  with  hope  and  exulta- 
tion ; he  saw  in  every  cloud  of  dust  a Roman 
squadron  ; and  grasped  his  lance,  and  wheel- 
ed his  foaming  charger,  with  the  eager  joy 
of  a soldier  longing  to  assuage  his  thirst  for 
battle. 

The  weight  on  my  melancholy  mind  was 
beyond  the  power  of  chance  or  time  to  re- 
move ; but  a new  strength  was  in  the  crisis. 
The  world  to  me  was  covered  with  clouds 
eternal,  but  it  was  now  brightened  by  a wild 
and  keen  lustre  ; I saw  my  way  by  the  light- 
ning. An  irresistible  conviction  still  told 
me  that  the  last  day  of  Israel  was  approach- 
ing, and  that  no  sacrifice  of  valor  or  virtue 
could  avert  the  ruin.  In  the  midst  of  the 
loudest  exhilaration  of  the  fearless  hearts 
around  me,  the  picture  of  the  coming  ruin 
would  grow  upon  my  eyes.  I saw  my  gene- 
rous friends  perish  one  by  one  ; my  house- 
hold desolate  ; every  name  that  1 ever  loved 
passed  away.  When  I bent  my  eyes  round 
the  horizon  luxuriating  in  tiie  golden  sun- 
shine of  the  east,  I saw  but  a huge  altar, 
covered  with  the  fatal  offerings  of  its  slaugh- 
tered people. 

And  this  was  seen,  not  with  the  misty  un- 
certainty of  a mind  prone  to  dreams  of  evil; 
but  with  a clearness  of  foresight,  a distinct 
and  defined  reality,  that  left  no  room  for  con- 
jecture. Yet,  and  here  was  the  bitterest 
part  of  my  meditation,  what  was  all  this 
ruin  to  me?  What  were  those  men  and 
women,  and  households  and  lands,  but  as 
the  leaves  on  the  wind,  to  me!  I might 
strive  in  the  last  extremities  of  their  strug- 
gle. I might  undergo. the  agonies  of  death 
with  them  a thousand  times ; and  I inwardly 
pledged  myself  never  to  desert  their  cause, 
iovely  and  generous  as  it  was,  while  through 
I pain  or  sorrow  I could  cling  to  it;  but  this, 
'however  protracted,  must  have  an  end.  I 
must  see  the  final  hour  of  them  all ; and 
more  unhappy,  more  destitute,  more  undone 
than  all,  I must  be  deprived  of  the  consola- 
tion of  making  my  tomb  with  the  right- 
eous, and  laying  my  weary  heart  in  the 
slumbers  of  their  grave  ! 

Yet  I experienced,  strangely  mingled 
with  the  deepest  despondency  of  the  future, 
more  than  the  keenest  fervor  of  the  impulse 
which  was  now  burning  around  me.  With 
me  it  was  not  kingly  care,  nor  the  animal 
ardency  of  the  soldier.  It  was  the  high, 


Salat  hi  el. 


27 


disturbing  stimulation  of  something  like  the 
infusion  of  a new  principle  of  existence.  I 
felt  as  if  I had  become  the  vehicle  of  a de- 
scended spirit.  A ceaseless  current  of 
thought  ran  through  my  brain.  Old  know- 
ledge, that  I had  utterly  forgotten,  revived 
in  me  with  spontaneous  freshness.  Casual 
impressions  and  long  past  years  arose,  with 
their  stamps  and  marks  as  clear  as  if  a hoard 
of  medals  had  been  suddenly  brought  to  light, 
and  thrown  before  me.  I ran  over  in  my 
recollection  persons  and  names  with  even 
painful  accuracy.  The  feeble  claims  and 
conceptions  of  those  for  whom  I once  felt 
habitual  deference,  were  now  seen  by  me  in 
their  nakedness.  All  that  was  habitual  was 
done  away  ; I saw  intuitively  the  vanity  and 
giddiness,  the  inconsequential  reasoning,  the 
heavy  and  bewildering  prejudice,  that  made 
up  what  in  other  days  I had  called  the  wis- 
dom of  the  wise. 

As  1 threw  out  in  the  most  unpremedi- 
tated language  the  ideas  that  were  glowing 
and  struggling  for  escape,  I found  that  the 
impression  of  some  extraordinary  excitement 
in  rne  was  universal.  Accustomed  to  be 
heard  with  the  attention  due  to  my  rank,  I 
now  saw  the  ears  and  eyes  of  my  fellow- 
travellers  turned  on  me  with  an  evident  and 
deferential  surprise.  When  I talked  of  the 
hopes  of  the  country,  of  the  resources  of  the 
enemy,  of  the  kingdoms  that  would  be  ready 
to  make  common  cause  with  us  against  the 
galling  tyranny  of  Nero,  of  the  glory  of 
fighting  for  our  altars,  and  of  the  imperish- 
able honors  of  those  whose  blood  earned 
peace  for  their  children  ; they  listened  as  to 
something  more  than  man.  “ Was  I the 
prophet  delegated  at  last  to  lead  Judea  to 
her  glory.” 

I At  those  discourses,  bursting  from  my 
lips  with  unconscious  fire,  the  old  men 
would  vow  the  remnant  of  their  days  to 
the  field ; the  young  would  sweep  over 
the  country,  performing  the  evolutions  of 
the  Roman  cavalry,  then  return,  brandishing 
their  weapons,  and  demanding  to  be  let 
loose  on  the  first  cohort  that  crossed  the 
horizon. 

With  me  every  pulse  was  war.  The  inter- 
est which  this  new  direction  of  our  minds 
gave  to  all  things,  grew  perpetually  more  in- 
tense. We  spurred  to  the  barren  heath;  it 
had  now  no  deformity,  for  upon  it  we  saw  the 
spot  from  which  battle  might  be  offered  to 
an  army  advancing  through  the  valley 
below.  The  marsh  that  spread  its  yellow 
stagnation  over  the  plain,  might  be  worth 
a province  for  the  protection  of  our  camp. 
The  thicket,  the  broken  bank  of  the  moun- 
tain torrent,  the  bluff  promontory,  the  rock, 
the  sand,  every  repellant  feature  of  the  land- 
scape, was  invested  with  the  value  of  a 


thing  of  life  and  death,  a portion  of  the  great 
stake  in  the  game  that  was  so  soon  to  be 
played  for  restoration  or  ruin. 

Those  are  the  delights  of  soldiership;  the 
indescribable  and  brilliant  colorings  which  the 
sense  of  danger,  the  desire  of  fame,  and  the 
hope  of  triumph,  throw  over  life  and  nature. 
Yet  if  war  was  ever  to  be  forgiven  for  its 
cause,  to  be  justified  by  the  high  remem-- 
brances  and  desperate  injuries  of  a people, 
or  to  be  encouraged  by  the  physical  strength 
of  a country,  it  was  the  final  war  of  Israel. 
In  all  my  wanderings  I have  seen  no  king- 
dom, for  defence,  equal  to  Judea.  It  had  in 
the  highest  degree  the  three  grand  essen- 
tials, compactness  of  territory,  density  of 
population,  and  strength  of  frontier.  If  I 
were  at  this  hour  to  be  sent  forth  to  select 
from  the  earth  a kingdom,  I should  say,  even 
extinguishing  the  recollections  of  my  being, 
and  the  love  which  I bear  to  the  very  weeds 
of  my  country  ; for  beauty,  for  climate,  for 
natural  wealth,  and  for  invincible  security, 
give  me  Judea. 

The  Land  of  Promise  had  been  chosen 
by  the  Supreme  Wisdom  for  the  inheritance 
of  a people  destined  to  be  unconquerable 
while  they  continued  pure.  It  was  surround- 
ed on  all  sides  but  one  by  mountains  and 
deserts;  and  that  one  was  defended  by  the 
sea,  which  at  the  same  time  opened  to  it 
the  intercourse  of  the  richest  countries  of 
the  west.  On  the  north,  rendered  hazard- 
ous by  the  vast  population  of  Asia  Minor, 
it  was  protected  by  the  double  range  of  the 
Libanus  and  Antilibanus,  a region  of  forests 
and  defiles,  at  all  seasons  nearly  impassable 
to  the  ancient  chariots  and  cavalry ; and, 
during  winter,  barred  up  with  torrents  and 
snows. 

The  whole  frontier  to  the  east  and  south 
was  a wall  of  mountain  rising  from  a desert ; 
a durable  barrier  over  which  no  enemy,  ex- 
hausted by  the  privations  of  an  Asiatic 
march,  could  force  their  way  against  a brave 
army  waiting  fresh  within  its  own  confines. 
But  even  if  the  Syrian  wastes  of  sand,  and 
the  fiery  soil  of  Arabia,  left  the  invaders 
strength  to  master  the  mountain  defences, 
the  whole  interior  was  full  of  the  finest 
positions  for  defence  that  ever  caught  the 
soldier’s  eye. 

All  the  mountains  sent  branches  through 
the  campaign.  As  we  spurred  up  the  sides 
of  Carmel,  we  saw  an  horizon  covered 
with  hills  like  clouds.  Every  city  was 
built  on  an  eminence,  and  capable  of  being 
instantly  converted  into  a fortress.  But 
while  an  army  kept  the  field,  the  larger 
operations  of  strategy  would  have  found 
matchless  support  in  the  course  of  the  Jor- 
dan, the  second  defence  of  Judea;  a line 
passing  through  the  whole  central  country 


28 


Salaihiel. 


from  north  to  south,  with  the  lake  of  Tiberias 
and  the  lake  Asphalties  at  either  extreme, 
at  once  defending  and  supplying  the  move- 
ments in  front,  flank,  and  rear. 

The  territory  thus  defensible  had  an 
additional  and  superior  strength  in  the 
character  and  habits  of  its  population.  In  a 
space  of  two  hundred  miles  long  by  a hun- 
dred broad,  its  inhabitants  once  amounted 
to  nearly  six  millions,  tillers  of  the  ground, 
bold  tribes,  invigorated  by  their  life  of  indus- 
try, and  connected  with  each  other  by  the 
most  intimate  and  frequent  intercourse  under 
the  Divine  command.  By  the  law  of  Moses, 

• — may  he  rest  in  glory  ! — every  man  from 
twenty  to  sixty,  was  liable  to  be  called  on 
for  the  general  defence ; and  the  customary 
armament  of  the  tribes  was  appointed  at  six 
hundred  thousand  men  ! 

The  munitions  of  war  were  in  abundance. 
All  the  varieties  of  troops  known  in  the 
ancient  armies  were  to  be  found  in  Judea, 
in  the  highest  discipline,  from  the  spearsman 
to  the  archer  and  the  slinger,  from  the 
heavy-armed  soldier  of  the  fortress  to  the 
ranger  of  the  desert  and  the  mountain. 
Cavalry  were  prohibited ; for  the  purpose 
of  the  Jewish  armament  was  defence.  The 
spirit  of  the  Jewish  code  was  peace.  By 
the  prohibition  of  cavalry,  no  conquests  could 
be  made  on  the  bordering  kingdoms  of  inter- 
minable plains.  The  command  that  the 
males  of  the  tribes  should  go  up  thrice  in 
the  year  to  the  great  festivals  of  Jerusalem, 
was  equally  opposed  to  encroachments  on  the 
neighboring  states.  It  was  not  till  Israel 
abandoned  the  purity  of  the  original  Cove- 
nant with  Heaven,  that  the  evils  of  ambition 
or  tyranny  were  felt  within  her  borders. 

Her  whole  policy  was  under  a divine 
sanction;  and  her  whole  preservation  was 
distinguished  by  the  perpetual  agency  of 
miracle,  for  the  obvious  purpose  of  compel- 
ling the  people  to  know  the  God  of  their 
fathers.  But  the  physical  strength  of  such 
a people  in  such  a territory  was  incalculable. 
Severity  of  climate  will  not  ultimately  repel 
an  invader,  for  that  severity  scatters  and 
exhausts  the  population.  Difficulties  of 
country  have  been  perpetually  overpassed 
by  a daring  invader  in  the  attack  of  a feeble 
or  negligent  people.  To  what  nation  were 
their  snows,  their  marshes,  or  their  sands,  a 
barrier  against  the  great  armies  of  the  an- 
cient or  the  modern  world  1 The  Alps  and 
the  Pyrenees  have  been  passed,  as  often  as 
they  have  been  attempted.  But  no  empire 
can  conquer  a nation  of  six  millions  of  men 
determined  to  resist ; no  army  that  could  be 
thrown  across  the  frontier,  would  find  the 
means  of  penetrating  through  a compact 
population,  of  which  every  man  was  a sol- 
dier, and  every  man  was  fighting  for  his  own. 


The  Jew  was,  by  his  law,  a free  proprietor 
of  the  soil ; he  was  no  serf,  nor  broken  vas- 
sal. He  inherited  his  portion  of  the  land  by 
an  irrevocable  title.  Debt,  misfortune,  or 
time  could  not  extinguish  his  right.  Capa- 
ble of  being  alienated  from  him  for  a few 
years,  the  land  returned  at  the  Jubilee. 
He  was  then  once  more  a possesser,  the 
master  of  competence,  and  restored  to  his 
rank  among  his  fellow  men.  This  bond,  the 
most  benevolent  and  the  strongest  that  ever 
bound  man  to  a country,  was  the  bond  of  the 
Covenant.  If  Israel  had  held  the  institutions 
of  her  Lawgiver  inviolate,  she  would  have 
seen  the  Assyrian,  the  Egyptian,  and  the 
Roman,  with  all  their  multitudes,  only  food 
for  the  vulture.  But  we  were  a rebellious 
people;  we  sullied  the  purity  of  the  Mosaic 
ordinances  ; we  abandoned  the  sublime  cere- 
monial of  the  divine  worship  for  the  profligate 
rites  of  paganism  ; we  rejected  the  Lord  of 
the  Theocracy  for  the  pomps  of  an  earthly 
king.  The  mighty  protection  that  had  been 
to  us  as  eagles’  wings  and  as  a wall  of  fire, 
was  withdrawn.  Our  first  punishment  was 
by  our  own  hand;  the  union  of  Israel  was  a 
band  of  flax  in  the  flame.  The  tribe  revolted. 
Then  was  the  time  for  the  hostile  idolater  to 
do  his  work.  We  were  overwhelmed'  by 
enemies  in  alliance  with  our  own  blood. 
The  banners  of  the  sons  of  Jacob  were  seen 
waving  beside  the  banners  of  the  worship- 
pers of  Ashtaroth  and  Apis.  An  opening 
was  made  into  the  bosom  of  the  land  for  all 
invasion;  the  barrier  of  the  mountain  and 
the  desert  were  in  vain ; the  proverbial  bra- 
very of  the  Jew  only  rendered  his  chain 
more  severe;  and  the  policy  that,  of  old, 
united  the  highest  wisdom  with  the  purest 
truth  and  the  most  benevolent  meicy,  was  at 
once  the  scoff  and  problem  of  the  prgan  world. 

But  opulence,  salubrity,  and  varousness  of 
production,  belonged  to  the  site  of  the  land 
of  Israel.  It  lay  central  between  the  richest 
regions  of  the  world.  It  was  the  natural 
road  of  the  traffic  of  India  with  the  west; 
that  traffic  which  raised  Tyre  and  Sidon  from 
rocks  and  shallows  on  a fragment  of  the 
shore  of  Judea  into  magnificent  cities;  and 
which  was  yet  to  raise  into  political  power 
and  unrivalled  wealth,  the  rocks  and  shallows 
of  the  remotest  shore  of  the  Mediterranean. 

Our  mountain  ranges  tempered  the  hot 
winds  from  the  wilderness.  The  sea  cooled 
the  summer  heats  with  the  living  breeze  and 
tempered  the  chill  of  winter.  Our  fields 
teemed  with  perpetual  fruits  and  flowers. 

The  extent  of  the  land,  though  narrow, 
(contrasted  with  that  of  the  surrounding  king- 
doms, was  yet  not  to  be  measured  by  the 
lineal  boundaries ; a country  intersected 
every  where  with  chains  of  hills  capable  of 
cultivation  to  the  summit,  alike  multiplies 


Salathiel. 


29 


its  surface,  and  varies  its  climate.  We  had 
at  the  foot  of  the  hill  the  products  of  the  tor- 
rid zone;  on  its  side  those  of  the  temperate; 
in  its  summit  the  robust  vegetation  of  the 
north.  The  ascending  circles  of  the  orange 
grove,  the  vineyard,  and  the  forest,  covered 
it  with  perpetual  beauty. 

This  scene  of  matchless  productiveness  is 
fair  and  fertile  no  more.  For  ages  before 
my  eyes  opened  on  the  land  of  my  fathers, 
tire  national  misfortunes  had  impaired  its 
original  loveliness.  The  schism  of  the  tribes, 
the  ravages  of  successive  invaders,  and  still 
more  the  continued  presence  of  the  idolater 
and  the  alien,  in  the  heart  of  the  land,  turned 
large  portions  of  it  into  desert.  The  final 
fall  almost  destroyed  the  traces  of  its  fruit- 
fulness. What  can  be  demanded  from  the 
soil  lorded  over  by  the  tyranny  of  the  Mos- 
lem, stripped  of  its  population,  and  given 
up  to  the  mendicant,  the  monk,  and  the 
robber  1 

But  more  than  human  evil  smote  my  un- 
happy country.  The  curse  pronounced  by 
our  great  prophet  three  thousand  years  ago, 
has  been  deeply  fulfilled.  “The  stranger 
that  shall  come  from  a far  land  shall  say, 
when  he  beholdeth  the  plagues  of  the  land, 
and  the  sicknesses  that  the  Lord  hath  laid 
upon  it,  the  land  of  brimstone  and  salt  and 
burning,  even  all  nations  shall  say — ‘ Where- 
fore hath  the  Lord  done  this  unto  this  land  1 
What  meaneth  the  heat  of  this  great  anger  V 
Then  men  shall  say — ‘Because  they  have 
forsaken  the  covenant  of  the  Lord  God  of 
their  fathers !’  ” 

The  soil  has  been  blasted.  Sterility  has 
struck  into  its  heart.  Whole  provinces  are 
covered  with  sands  and  ashes.  It  has  the 
look  of  an  exhausted  volcano! 

Yet,  what  might  have  been  the  progress 
of  this  people!  The  glory  of  Israel  is  no 
fine  vision  of  the  fancy.  The  same  prophetic 
word  which  has  given  terrible  demonstration 
of  its  reality  in  our  ruin,  declares  the  hope 
once  held  forth  to  our  obedience.  Judea 
was  to  have  borne  the  first  rank  among  na- 
tions; it  was  to  have  been  an  object  of  uni- 
versal wonder  and  honor;  to  have  been  un- 
conquerable; to  have  enjoyed  unwearied 
fertility : to  have  been  protected  from  the 
casualties  of  the  elements;  to  have  been 
free  from  disease;  the  life  of  its  people  con- 
tinuing to  the  farthest  limit  of  our  nature. 
A blessing  was  to  be  upon  the  labors,  the 
possessions,  and  the  persons  of  the  tribes; 
All  Israel,  a nation,  in  the  highest  sense  of 
the  word — a sovereign  race,  to  which  the 
world  should  pay  a willing  and  happy  hom- 
age. 

What  must  have  been  the  operation  of 
this  illustrious  instance  of  the  preservative 
power  of  Heaven,  on  the  darkened  empires  ; 

3 


of  the  scriptural  lights  perpetually  beaming 
from  Judea;  of  the  living,  palpable  happi- 
ness of  obedience  to  the  Supreme;  of  the 
perpetual  security  of  the  land  in  the  Divine 
protection ; of  the  internal  peace,  health, 
plenteousness,  and  freedom  ! Man  is  weak 
and  passionate,  but  no  blindness  could  have 
hid  from  his  contemplations  this  proof  of  the 
human  value  of  virtue. 

We  must  add  to  this  the  direct  influence 
of  a governing  people,  placed  in  its  rank  for 
the  express  purpose  of  a guide  to  nations. 
Combining  the  sacred  impulses,  knowledge, 
and  devotedness,  of  a priesthood,  with  the 
actual  power  and  dignity  of  kings;  by  its 
own  constitution  as  safe  from  all  encroach- 
ment, as  prohibited  from  all  aggression ; in- 
formed by  the  immediate  wisdom,  and  sus- 
tained in  its  generous  and  hallowed  enter- 
prise by  the  uncovered  arm  of  Omnipotence  ; 
Judea  might  have  changed  the  earth  into  a 
paradise,  and  raised  universal  man  to  the 
highest  happiness,  knowledge,  and  dignity  of 
his  human  nature. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

We  reached  the  hills  of  Naphtali  at  the 
close  of  one  of  the  most  delicious  days  of 
summer.  All  nature  was  clothed  with  its 
robe  of  genial  beauty;  the  olives  on  the 
higher  grounds  had  put  forth  their  first  green, 
and  with  every  slight  gust  that  swept  across 
them,  heaved  like  sheets  of  emerald ; the 
birds  sang  in  a thousand  notes  from  every 
bush ; the  sheep  and  camels  lay  in  the  mea- 
dows visibly  enjoying  the  cool  air;  the  shep- 
herds sat  gathered  together  on  the  side  of 
some  gentle  eminence,  talking,  or  listening 
to  the  songs  of  the  maidens  that  came  in  long 
lines  to  the  fountains  below.  The  heavens 
gave  prospect  of  a glorious  day,  in  colors 
shown  only  to  the  Oriental  eye;  hues  so 
brilliant,  that  many  a traveller  stops  on  the 
verge  of  the  valleys,  arrested,  in  his  haste 
homeward,  by  the  glow  and  pomp  above.  All 
was  the  loveliness  and  joy  of  pastoral  life,  in 
the  only  country  where  I ever  found  it  real- 
ized. 

The  mind  is  to  be  medicined  by  natural 
loveliness,  and  mine  was  cheered.  To  re- 
turn to  our  home  is  at  all  times  a delight; 
but  the  new  conjuncture,  the  high  hopes 
for  the  future,  and  the  consciousness  that 
a career  of  the  most  distinguished  honors 
might  be  opening  before  my  steps,  made 
this  return  more  vivid  than  all  the  past; 
and  when  we  reached  the  foot  of  the 
long  ascent  from  which  my  dwelling  was 
visible,  I felt  an  impatience  beyond  re- 
straint, and  spurred  up  the  hill  alone. 


. Salathiel. 


How  fine  the  ear  becomes,  when  it  is  quick- 
ened by  the  heart ! As  the  broken  mountain 
road,  now  made  more  difficult  by  the  darkness 
of  the  wild  pines  and  cedars  that  crowned  the 
summit,  compelled  me  to  slacken  my  pace ; 

I thought  that  I could  distinguish  the  house- 
hold voices,  the  barking  of  my  hounds,  and 
the  laugh  of  the  retainers  and  peasantry,  that 
during  the  summer  crowded  my  doors. 

I pictured  the  dearer  group  that  had  so  of- 
ten welcomed  me.  The  early  and  cruel  loss 
of  my  son  had  not  been  repaired.  I was  not 
destined  to  be  the  father  of  a race ; but  two 
daughters  were  given  to  me,  and  in  the  absence 
of  all  ambition,  they  were  more  than  a re- 
compense. Salome,  the  elder,  was  now  ap- 
proaching to  womanhood  ; she  had  the  dark 
eyes  and  animated  beauty  of  her  mother ; the 
foot  of  the  antelope  was  not  lighter ; and  her 
wreathed  smile,  her  intellectual  sportiveness, 
her  laugh  of  innocence,  and  buoyancy  of 
soul,  forbade  sorrow  in  her  sight.  Oh,  what 
I afterwards  saw  that  face  of  living  joy  ! — 
What  floods  of  sorrow  bathed  those  cheeks, 
that  shamed  the  Persian  rose ! 

The  younger  was  scarcely  more  than  a 
child  ; her  mind  and  her  form  were  yet  equal- 
ly in  the  bud ; but  she  had  an  eye  of  the  deep- 
est azure,  a living  star;  and  even  in  her  play- 
fulness there  was  an  elevation,  a lofty  and 
fervent  spirit,  that  made  me  often  forget  her 
years.  She  was  mistress  of  music  almost 
by  nature,  and  the  cadences  and  rich  modu- 
lations that  poured  from  her  harp,  under  fin- 
gers slight  and  feeble,  as  if  the  stalks  of  flow- 
ers had  been  flung  across  the  strings,  were 
like  secrets  of  harmony  treasured  for  her 
touch  alone.  Our  prophets,  the  true  masters 
of  the  sublime,  were  her  rapturous  study. — 
Their  truth  might  be  veiled,  but  their  genius 
blazed  broad  upon  her  sensitive  soul. 

I imaged  my  children  hastening  through  the 
portal,  twined  hand  in  hand  with  their  noble 
mother,  still  in  the  prime  of  matron  beauty, 
and  still  grown  dearer  to  my  heart,  to  give 
me  welcome.  The  light  thickened,  and  the 
intricacy  of  the  forest  impeded  me.  At  length, 
wearied  by  the  delay,  I sprang  from  my  horse, 
left  him  to  make  his  way  as  he  could,  and 
urged  my  path  through  a thicket  which 
crept  round  the  skirts  of  the  forest,  and  which 
alone  obstructed  the  view  of  the  spot  that 
contained  all  that  earth  held  precious  to  me. 
As  I struggled  onward,  listening  with  sharp- 
ened anxiety  for  every  sound  of  home,  I caught 
a sound  like  that  of  a wild  beast  rustling  close 
at  my  side.  The  thicket  was  utterly  dark. 
My  eyes  were  useless.  I drew  my  scimetar 
and  plunged  it  straight  before  me.  The  blow 
was  instantly  followed  by  a shriek.  Friend 
or  enemy,  silence  was  now  impossible,  and  I 
demanded  who  was  nigh.  I was  answered  I 
but  by  groans ; my  next  step  was  on  a body.  I 


Shocked  and  startled,  1 yet  lifted  it  in  my 
arms,  and  bore  the  dying  man  to  an  open 
space  where  the  moonlight  glimmered.  To 
my  unspeakable  horror,  he  was  one  of  my 
most  favored  attendants,  whom  I had  left  in 
the  principal  charge  of  my  household.  I had 
slain  him : I tore  up  my  mantle  to  staunch 
his  deadly  wound;  but  he  fiercely  repelled 
my  hand.  In  an  undefined  dread  of  some 
evil  to  my  family  I commanded  him  to  speak, 
if  but  one  word,  and  tell  me  that  all  was  safe. 
He  buried  his  face  in  the  ground.  In  the 
whirlwind  of  my  thoughts  I flung  him  from 
me,  that  I might  go  forward,  and  know  the 
good  or  evil : but  he  clung  round  my  feet,  and 
exerted  his  last  breath  to  implore  me  not  to 
leave  him  to  die  alone.  “ You  have  killed 
me,”  said  he,  in  broken  accents  : but  it  was 
not  your  hand,  but  the  hand  of  the  Avenger. 

I was  corrupted  by  gold.  You  have  terrible 
enemies  among  the  leaders  of  Jerusalem  : a 
desperate  deed  has  been  done.”  My  suspense 
amounted  to  agony : I made  another  effort  to 
cast  off  the  trammels  of  the  assassin : but  he 
still  implored.  “ Evil  things  were  whispered 
against  you.  I was  told  that  you  had  been 
convicted  of  a horrible  crime.”  The  sound 
shot  through  my  senses;  he  must  have  felt 
the  trembling  of  my  frame : for  he  for  the 
first  time,  looked  upon  my  face.  “ My  eyes 
are  gone,”  groaned  he,  and  fell  back.  I dared 
not  meet  the  glance,  even  of  his  clouding 
eyes.  “ They  said  that  you  were  condemned 
to  an  unspeakable  punishment;  and  that  the 
man  who  swept  the  world  of  you  and  yours, 
did  God  service.  In  my  hour  of  sin  the 
tempter  met  me ; and  this  day  from  sunrise 
have  I lurked  on  your  road,  to  strike  .ny  ben- 
efactor and  my  lord.  In  the  dark  I lost  my 
way  in  the  thicket ; but  vengeance  found  me.” 
— “ My  family,  my  wife,  my  children  are  they 
safel”  I exclaimed.  He  quivered,  relaxed 
his  hold,  and,  uttering  “Forgive,”  two  or 
three  times,  with  nervous  agony,  expired. 

A single  bound  from  this  spot  of  death 
placed  me  on  the  point  of  a rock,  from  which  I 
had  often  gazed  on  my  little  world  in  the  valley. 
The  moon  was  now  bright,  and  the  view  unob- 
structed. I looked  down.  Were  my  eyes 
dim  1 There  was  no  habitation  benea  th  me : 
the  grove,  the  garden,  were  there,  sleeping 
in  the  moonlight ; but  all  that  had  the  sem- 
blance of  life  was  gone ! I rushed  down  and 
found  myself  among  ruins  and  ashes  still  hot. 
I called  aloud — in  terror  and  distraction  I 
yelled  to  the  night:  but  no  voice  answered 
me.  My  foot  struck  upon  something  in  the 
grass ; it  was  a sword,  black  with  recent 
blood.  There  had  been  burning,  plunder, 
slaughter  here,  in  this  treasure-house  of  my 
heart ; desolation  had  been  busy  in  the  cen- 
tre of  what  was  to  me  life,  more  than  life. 
I raved ; I flew  through  the  fields ; I rushed 


Salathiel. 


back  to  convince  myself  that  I was  not  la-  ! 
boring  under  some  frightful  dream.  What  I 
endured  that  night,  I never  endured  again ; 
that  conflict  of  fear,  astonishment,  love  and 
misery,  could  be  contained  but  once  even  in 
my  bosom : in  all  others  it  must  have  been 
death.  In  the  moment  of  reviving  hope,  I 
had  been  smitten.  While  my  spirit  was  as- 
cending on  the  wings  of  justified  ambition 
and  sacred  love  of  country,  I had  been  dashed 
down  to  earth,  a desolate  and  desperate  man. 

What  I did  thenceforth,  or  how  I passed 
through  that  night,  I know  not;  but  I was 
found  in  the  morning  with  my  robe  fantasti- 
cally tnrown  over  me  like  a royal  mantle,  and 
a fragment  of  half-burnt  wood  for  a sceptre 
in  my  hand,  performing  the  part  of  a monarch, 
giving  orders  for  the  rebuilding  of  my  palace, 
and  marshaling  the  movement  of  an  army  of 
shrubs  and  weeds.  I was  led  away  with  the 
lofty  reluctance  of  a captive  sovereign,  to 
the  household  of  Eleazar. 

The  wrath  and  grief  of  my  kinsmen  were 
without  bounds.  Every  defile  of  the  moun- 
tains was  searched — every  straggler  seized  : 
messengers  were  despatched  across  the  fron- 
tier with  offers  of  ransom  to  the  chiefs  of  the 
desert,  in  case  my  family  should  have  escaped 
the  sword.  Threats  of  severe  retaliation 
were  used  by  the  Roman  governor  of  the 
province ; all  was  in  vain.  The  only  glimpse 
of  intelligence  was  from  a shepherd,  who  two 
nights  before  had  seen  a troop,  which  he  sup- 
posed to  be  Arabs,  ride  swiftly  by  the  gates 
of  Kuriathim,  our  nearest  city;  but  this  in- 
telligence only  added  to  the  misfortune.  The 
habits  of  those  robbers  were  proverbially  sav- 
age : they  attacked  by  the  torch  and  the 
sword ; they  slaughtered  the  men  without 
mercy;  the  females  they  generally  sold  into 
a returnless  captivity.  To  leave  no  trace  of 
their  route,  they  slaughtered  the  captives 
whom  they  could  not  carry  through  their 
hurried  marches.  To  leave  no  trace  of  what 
they  had  done,  they  burned  the  place  of  mas- 
sacre. But  this  ruin  was  from  other  and 
more  malignant  hands. 

What  I might  have  suffered  in  the  agony 
of  a bereaved  husband  and  father  was  spared 
me.  My  visitation  was  of  another  kind ; 
dreadful,  yet,  perhaps,  not  so  pre-eminently 
wretched,  nor  so  deeply  striking  at  the  roots 
of  life.  My  brain  had  received  an  overwhelm- 
ing blow.  Imagination  was  to  be  my  ty- 
rant; and  every  occurrence  of  life,  every  as- 
pect of  human  being,  every  variety  of  nature, 
day  and  night,  sunshine  and  storm,  made  a 
portion  of  its  fearful  empire. 

I was  mad,  but  all  my  madness  was  not 
painful.  Books,  my  old  delight,  still  lulled 
my  mind.  I revolved  some  favorite  volume ; 
then  fancy  waved  her  wand,  and  built  upon 
its  contents  a world  of  adventure.  Every 


language  appeared  to  open  its  treasures  to 
me.  I roved  through  all  lands — I saw  all  the 
eminent  for  rank  or  genius — I drank  of  the 
fountains  of  poetry — I addressed  listening 
senates,  and  heard  the  air  echo  their  applause. 
Wit,  beauty,  talent,  laid  their  inestimable 
tributes  at  my  feet.  I was  exalted  to  the 
highest  triumphs  of  mind ; and  then  came  my 
fate ; — in  the  midst  of  my  glory  came  a cloud, 
and  I was  miserable. 

This  bitter  sense  of  defeat  was  a charac- 
teristic of  my  visions.  Be  the  cup  ever  so 
sweet,  it  was  dashed  by  a poison-drop  at  bot- 
tom. 

I imagined  myself  the  great  King  of  Bab- 
ylon. From  the  superb  architecture  of  those 
palaces,  in  which  Nebuchadnezzar  forgot  that 
he  was  but  man,  I issued  my  mandates  to  a 
hundred  monarcns.  I saw  the  satraps  of  the 
East  bow  their  jewelled  necks  before  my 
throne.  I rode  at  the  head  of  countless  ar- 
mies, Lord  of  Asia,  and  future  Conquerer  of 
all  the  realms  that  saw  the  sun.  In  the 
swelling  of  my  haughty  soul  I exclaimed, 
like  him,  “Is  not  this  the  Great  Babylon  that 
I have  built  1”  and,  like  him  in  the  very  ut- 
tering of  the  words,  I was  cast  out,  humbled 
to  the  grass  of  the  field,  hideous,  brutal,  and 
wretched 

■ I was  Belshazzar.  I sat  in  the  halls 

of  glory.  I heard  the  harps  of  minstrels,  the 
voice  of  singing  men  and  singing  women. — 
The  banquet  was  before  me ; I was  surround- 
ed by  the  trophies  of  irresistible  conquest. — 
Beauty,  flattery,  splendor,  the  delight  of  the 
senses,  the  keener  feast  of  vanity,  the  rich 
anticipation  of  triumph  measureless  and  end- 
less, made  me  all  but  a god.  I put  the  pro- 
faned cup  of  the  temple  to  my  lips.  Thun- 
der pealed : the  serene  sky,  the  only  canopy 
worthy  of  my  banquet  and  my  throne,  was 
sheeted  over  with  lightning.  I swallowed 
the  wine — it  was  poison  and  fire  in  my  veins. 
The  gigantic  hand  came  forth,  and  wrote  up- 
on the  wall 

The  moon,  the  ancient  mistress  of  the  dis- 
eased mind,  strongly  exerted  her  spells  on 
mine.  I loved  her  light;  but  it  was  only 
when  it  mingled  softly  with  the  shadows  of 
the  forest  and  the  landscape.  I welcomed 
her  return  from  darkness,  as  the  coming  of 
some  guardian  genius  to  shed  at  once  beauty 
and  healing  on  its  path.  Darkness  was  to 
me  a source  of  terror : daylight  overwhelmed 
me  : but  the  gentle  splendor  of  the  crescent 
had  a dewy  and  refreshing  influence  on  my 
faculties.  I exposed  my  feverish  forehead  to 
her  beams,  as  if  to  bathe  it  in  celestial  balm. 
I felt  in  her  gradual  increase,  an  increase 
of  power  to  soothe  and  console.  This  indul- 
gence grew  into  a kind  of  visionary  passion. 
I saw  in  the  crescent,  as  it  sailed  up  the 
aether  a gallery  crowded  with  forms  of  sur- 


Salat  hiel. 


passing  loveliness,  faces  that  bent  down  and 
smiled  upon  me,  and  hands  that  showered 
treasures  to  be  collected  by  mine  alone.  But 
excess  even  of  this  light  always  disturbed 
me.  From  the  full  splendor  of  the  moon, 
there  was  no  escape;  the  rays  smote  upon 
me  with  merciless  infliction : I fled  to  the 
woods  as  a hunted  deer ; a thousand  shafts  of 
light  penetrated  the  shade.  I hid  myself  in 
the  depths  of  my  chamber;  flames  of  lambent 
silver,  curling  and  darting  in  forms  innumer- 
able, shot  round  my  couch.  Upon  the  ine- 
qualities of  the  ground,  or  the  waves  of  the 
fountain  and  the  river,  serpents  of  the  most 
inimitable  lustre,  yet  of  the  most  deadly  poi- 
son, coiled  and  sprang  after  me  with  a rapid- 
ity that  mocked  human  feet.  If  I dared  to 
glance  upwards,  I beheld  a menacing  visage 
distending  to  an  immeasurable  magnitude, 
and  ready  to  pour  down  wrath  ; or  an  orb  with 
its  mountains  and  oceans  swinging  loose 
through  the  heaven,  and  rolling  down  upon 
my  solitary  brow. 

But  those  were  my  hours  of  comparative 
happiness.  I had  visions  of  intense  suffering 
and  terror,  flights  through  regions  of  space, 
that  left  earth  and  the  sun  incalculable  mil- 
lions of  miles  behind ; flights  ceaseless,  hope- 
less— still  hurrying  onward  with  more  than 
winged  speed  through  worlds  of  worlds,  and 
still  enduring;  the  heart  sickening  and  with- 
ering with  the  consciousness  of  being  swept 
beyond  the  bounds  of  living  things,  and  of 
being  doomed  to  this  forever. 

Those  trials  changed  into  every  shape  of 
desperation. 

I was  driven  out  to  sea  in  a bark  that 

let  in  every  wave.  I struggled  to  reach  the 
land — I tore  my  sinews  with  toil — I saw  the 
hills,  the  trees,  the  shore,  sink  in  slow,  yet 
sure  succession — I felt  in  the  hands  of  an  in- 
visible power,  bent  on  iny  undoing.  The 
storm  subsided,  the  sun  shone,  the  ocean  was 
without  a surge.  Still  I struggled  ; with  the 
strength  of  despair  I toiled  to  regain  the  land 
— to  retard  the  viewless  force  that  was  per- 
petually urging  me  farther  from  existence. — 

I began  to  suffer  thirst  and  hunger.  They 
grew  to  pain,  to  torture,  to  madness.  I felt 
as  if  molten  lead  were  poured  down  my  throat. 

I put  my  arm  to  my  mouth,  and  shuddering, 
quenched  my  thirst  in  my  own  veins.  It  re- 
turned instantly  with  a more  fiery  sting. — 
There  was  nothing  in  the  elements  to  give 
me  hope — to  draw  off  thought  from  my  own 
fate — to  deaden  the  venomed  sensibilities  that 
quivered  through  every  fibre.  The  wind 
slept — the  sky  was  cloudless — the  sea  smooth 
as  glass ; not  a distant  sail — not  a wandering 
bird — not  a springing  fish — not  even  a float- 
ing weed,  broke  the  terrible  monotony.  The 
sun  did  not  pass  down  the  horizon.  All  above 
me  was  unvaried,  motionless  sky — all  around, 


unvaried,  motionless  ocean.  I alone  moved 
— still  urged  farther  from  the  chance  of  life , 
still  undergoing  new  accessions  of  agony  that 
made  the  past  trivial.  I tasted  the  water  be- 
side me : it  added  fire  to  fire.  1 convulsively 
darted  out  my  withered  hands,  as  if  they  could 
have  drawn  down  the  rain,  or  grasped  the 
dew.  I withered  piecemeal,  yet  with  a con- 
tinuing consciousness  in  every  fragment  of 
my  frame  ! — 

I wandered  at  midnight  through  a 

country  of  mountains.  Worn  out  with  fa- 
tigue, I lay  down  upon  a rock.  I found  it 
heave  under  me.  I heard  a thunder-peal. — 
A sudden  blaze  kindled  the  sky.  Bewildered 
and  stunned,  I started  on  my  feet.  The  moun- 
tains were  on  flame ; a hundred  mouths  poured 
down  torrents  of  liquid  fire ; they  came  shoot- 
ing in  sulphureous  cataracts  down  the  chasms. 
The  forests  burned  before  them  like  a gar- 
ment— the  rocks  melted — the  rivers  flew  up 
in  sheets  of  vapor — the  valleys  were  basins 
of  glowing  ore — the  clouds  of  smoke  and  ash- 
es gathered  over  my  head  in  a solid  vault  of 
gloom,  wildly  enlightened  by  the  flashes  of 
the  conflagration  below — the  land  was  a cav- 
ern of  fire.  In  terror  inconceivable,  I ran,  I 
bounded,  I plunged  down  declivities,  I swam 
rivers : still  the  fiery  torrents  hunted  my  steps, 
as  if  they  had  been  commissioned  against  me 
alone.  I felt  them  gathering  speed  on  me ; 
when  I bounded,  the  spot  from  which  I sprang 
was  on  flame  before  I alighted  on  the  ground. 

I climbed  a promontory  with  an  effort  that  ex- 
hausted my  last  nerve.  The  fatal  lava  swept 
round  its  foot ; and,  in  another  instant,  must 
encircle  me.  I ran  along  the  edge  of  a pre- 
cipice that  made  the  brain  turn;  the  fire 
chased  me  from  pinnacle  to  pinnacle.  I clung 
to  the  weeds  and  trunks  of  trees  on  its  sides, 
and,  in  fear  of  being  dashed  to  pieces,  trem- 
blingly let  myself  down  the  wall  of  perpen- 
dicular rock.  Breathless  and  dying  at  the 
bottom  of  the  descent,  I glanced  upwards; 
the  flame  of  the  thicket  on  the  brow  showed 
me  my  pursuer.  I saw  the  rapid  swelling  of 
the  molten  tide.  In  another  moment,  it 
plunged  through  the  air  in  a white  column. 
The  valley  was  instantly  an  expanse  of  con- 
flagration— every  spot  was  inundated  with 
the  blaze.  I flew,  with  scorching  feet — with 
every  sinew  of  my  frame  parched  and  dried 
of  its  substance — with  my  eyes  blinded,  and 
my  lungs  burned  up  with  the  suffocating 
fumes  that  rushed  before,  around,  and  above. 
At  length  my  limit  was  reached.  The  land 
afforded  no  farther  room  for  flight.  I stood 
on  the  verge  of  the  ocean.  Death  was  inev- 
itable. I had  but  the  choice.  Before  me 
spread  the  world  of  waters,  sad,  dim,  fathom- 
less, interminable ; behind  me,  the  world  of 
flame.  By  a last  desperate  effort,  I plunged 
into  the  ocean.  The  indefatigable  lava  rolled 


Salathiel. 


or),  mass  on  mass,  like  armies  rushing;  to  the 
assault.  The  billows  shrank  before  the  first 
fiery  shock,  sheets  of  vapor  rolled  up ; still 
the  eruption  rolled  on,  and  the  returning-  bil- 
lows fought  against  it ; the  conflict  shook  the 
land ; the  mountain  shore  crumbled  down  ; 
tire  sands  melted  and  burned  vitreous ; the 
atmosphere  discharged  scalding  torrents;  the 
winds,  shaken  from  their  balance,  raged 
with  the  violence  of  more  than  tempest. — 
Thunder  roared  in  peals  that  shook  the  earth, 
the  ocean,  and  the  heavens.  In  the  midst  of 
all  I lived,  tossed  like  a grain  of  sand  in  the 
whirlwind. 

Strange  and  harrassing  as  those  trials  of 
my  mind  were,  they  had  yet  contained  some 
appeals  to  individual  energy,  some  excite- 
ment of  personal  powers,  that  produced  a kind 
of  cheering  self-applause.  I was  Prometheus 
on  his  rock,  chained  and  remediless,  yet  still 
resistingand  unconquered.  But  the  true  mis- 
ery was  when  I was  passive. 

1 strayed  through  an  Egyptian  city. 

Buildings  numberless,  of  the  most  regal  de- 
sign, rose  round  me ; the  walls  were  covered 
with  sculptures  of  extraordinary  richness — no- 
ble statues  lined  the  public  ways — wealth  in 
the  wildest  profusion  was  visible  wherever  the 
foot  trod.  Endless  ranges  of  porphyry  and 
alabaster  columns  glittered  in  the  noon.  Su- 
perb ascents  of  marble  steps  mounted  before 
me,  to  heights  that  strained  the  eye.  Arch 
over  arch,  studded  with  the  lustre  of  precious 
stones,  climbed  until  they  lay  like  rainbows 
upon  the  sky.  Colossal  towers  circled  with 
successive  colonades  of  dazzling  brightness 
ascended — airy  citadels,  looking  down  upon 
the  earth,  and  colored  with  the  infinite  dies 
and  lustres  of  the  clouds.  But  all  was  silence 
in  this  scene  of  pomp.  There  was  no  tread 
of  human  being  heard  within  the  circuit  of 
a city,  fit  for  more  than  man.  The  utter  ex- 
tinction of  all  that  gives  the  idea  of  life  was 
startling;  there  was  not  the  note  of  a pass- 
ing bird,  not  the  cherup  of  a grasshopper. — 

I instinctively  shrank  from  the  sight  of  things 
lovely  in  themselves,  yet  which  froze  my 
mind  by  their  image  of  the  tomb.  But  to  es- 
cape was  impossible ; there  was  an  impression 
of  powerlessness  upon  me,  for  whose  melan- 
choly I can  find  no  words.  My  feet  were 
chainless,  but  never  fetter  clung  with  such  a 
retarding  weight,  as  that  invisible  bond  by 
which  I was  fixed  to  the  spot.  Ages  on 
ages  seemed  to  have  heavily  sunk  aw-ay, 
and  still  I stood,  bound  by  the  same  manacle, 
standing  on  the  same  spot,  looking  on  the 
same  objects.  To  this  I would  have  preferred 
the  fiercest  extremes  of  suffering.  The  pas- 
sion for  change  is  the  most  incapable  of  being 
extinguished  or  eluded  of  all  that  dwell  with- 
in the  heart  of  man. 

But  the  change  at  length  came.  The  sun 


decayed.  Twilight  fell,  shade  on  shade,  on 
; tower  and  column : until  total  darkness  shroud- 
ed the  scene  of  glory.  Yet,  as  if  a new 
faculty  of  sight  were  given  to  me,  the  thick- 
est darkness  did  not  blunt  the  eye.  I still 
saw  all  things — the  minutest  figures  of  the 
architecture,  the  finest  carving  of  the  airy 
castles,  whose  height  was,  even  in  the  sun- 
shine, almost  too  remote  for  vision.  Sudden- 
ly, there  echoed  the  murmur  of  many  voices, 
the  trooping  of  many  feet;  the  colossal  gates 
opened,  and  a procession  of  forms  innumera- 
ble entered ; they  were  of  every  period  of  life, 
of  every  pursuit,  of  every  rank,  of  every  coun- 
try. All  the  various  emblems  of  station,  all 
the  weapons  and  implements  of  mankind, 
all  costumes,  rich  and  strange,  civilized  and 
savage  ; all  the  attributes  and  adjuncts  of  the 
occupations  of  society  moved  in  that  mighty 
train.  The  monarch,  sceptred  and  crowned, 
passed  on  his  throne ; the  soldier  reining  his 
charger ; the  philosopher  gazing  on  his  vol- 
ume ; the  priest  bearing  the  instruments  of 
sacrifice.  It  was  the  triumph  of  a power 
ruling  all  mankind : but  ruling  them  when 
the  world  has  passed  away — Death  ! 

While  I gazed  in  breathless  awe,  I found 
myself  involved  in  the  procession.  Resist- 
ance was  vain : I was  conscious  that  I might 
as  well  have  struggled  against  the  tides  of  the 
ocean,  or  thought  to  stop  the  revolution  of  the 
globe.  We  advanced  through  the  place  of 
darkness  by  millions  of  millions,  yet  without 
crowding  the  majestic  avenue,  or  reaching 
its  close.  I rapidly  recognized  a multitude 
of  faces,  which  I had  known  from  the  models 
and  memorials  of  the  past  ages.  But  the 
power  that  marshaled  them  had  no  regard  to 
time.  The  pale,  fixed  Asiatic  countenance 
of  Ninus  moved  beside  the  glowing  cheek 
and  flashing  eye  of  Alexander.  The  patri- 
arch followed  the  Caesar.  The  thousand 
years  were  as  one  day — the  one  day  as  a 
thousand  years. 

The  whole  stately  train  suddenly  melted 
upon  the  eye,  and  I was  alone,  in  tenfold  dark- 
ness— entombed.  I lay  in  the  sepulchre, 
and  with  the  full  vividness  of  life,  and  with  a 
perfect  knowledge  that  there  it  was  my  doom 
to  lie  forever.  A miraculous  foresight  gifted 
me  with  the  fearful  privilege  of  looking  into 
the  most  remote  futurity.  Ages  on  ages  un- 
folded themselves,  with  all  their  wonders,  to 
tantalize  me.  I saw  worlds  awake  from  chaos, 
and  return  to  it  in  flood  and  flame.  I saw  sys- 
tems swept  away  like  the  sand.  The  universe 
withered  with  years,  and  rolled  up  like  the 
parchment  scroll,  I saw  new  regions  of  space, 
glowing  with  a new  creation;  the  angelic 
hierarchies  rising  through  new7  energies,  new 
triumphs,  new  orders  of  existence ; develop- 
ments of  powTer  and  magnificence,  of  sublime 
mercy  and  essential  glory,  too  high  for  the 


34 


Salathiel. 


conception  of  mortal  faculties, 
still  to  be  entombed  ! No  ray  of  light,  no 
sound,  no  trace  of  external  being,  no  sym- 
pathy of  flesh  or  spirit,  of  earth  or  heaven, 
was  to  reach  me.  The  four  narrow  walls, 
the  winding-sheet,  the  worm,  were  my  world. 

I seemed  to  lie  thus  tor  periods  beyond 
all  counting;  powerless  to  move  a limb;  the 
sleepless,  conscious,  vivid  victim  of  misery  un- 
speakable— Hie  bondsman  of  the  sepulchre  1 

In  those  wanderings  I experienced  not  even 
the  slightest  recollection  of  the  cause  which 
so  sternly  besieged  my  brain.  Wife,  chil-j 
dren,  country,  were  a blank.  Imagination,' 
that  strangest  and  most  imperious  of  our 
faculties,  whose  soarings  from  earth  to  hea- 
ven may  be  among  the  indications  of  power 
beyond  the  grave,  disdains  to  linger  on  the 
realities  of  our  being.  It  delights  in  the 
commanding,  the  bold,  the  superb.  In  my 
instance  it  had  the  wildness  of  disease  ; but 
who  has  ever  felt  its  workings,  even  in  the 
dream  of  health,  without  wonder  at  its  pas- 
sion for  the  richer  and  more  highly  relieved; 
remembrances  ; its  singular  skill  in  throwing 
together  the  brilliant  portions  of  life  and 
nature,  to  the  total  disregard  of  the  level; 
its  subtlety  in  the  seizure  of  the  circum- 
stances of  pain,  its  pointings  and  sbarpen- 
ings ; its  fabrication  of  adventure,  at  once 
of  the  most  regular  consecutiveness,  and  the 
wildest  originality;  and  all  characterized  by 
the  same  spontaneous  swiftness  of  change, 
illimitable  command  over  space  and  time,  a 
power  of  instant  flight  from  continent  to  con- 
tinent, and  from  world  to  world  ; — the  transit 
that  would  actually  fill  up  years  and  ages, 
the  work  of  a moment ! — the  actual  moment 
expanding  into  years  and  ages  ! 

What  are  those  but  the  infant  attributes 
of  the  disembodied  spirit! — the  imperfect 
developments  of  a state  of  being  to  which 
time  and  space  are  nothing: — when  man, 
shaking  off  the  covering  of  the  grave,  shall 
be  clothed  with  the  might  of  angels  ! — the 
splendid  denizen  of  Infinitude  and  Eternity  ! 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

At  length  the  past  returned  to  my  mind. 
Dim  recollections,  shadows  that  alternately 
advanced  and  eluded  me,  sketches  of  forms 
and  events,  like  pictures  unfinished  by  the 
pencil,  lay  before  me,  colorless  and  undefined. 
But  day  by  day  the  outlines  grew  more  com- 
plete, the  figures  assumed  a body : they 
lived — they  moved — they  uttered  voices; 
and  while  to  other  eyes  I was  a solitary  and 
hopeless  fugitive  from  human  converse,  to 
my  own  1 was  surrounded  with  a circle  of 
all  that  I loved  : yet,  with  a continued  sense 
of  privation,  a mysterious  feeling  of  some- 


thing imperfect  in  the  indulgence,  that  dash- 
ed my  cup  with  bitterness. 

With  the  increase  of  my  strength  I be- 
came a wanderer  to  great  distances  among 
the  mountains.  No  persuasion  of  my  kins- 
men could  restrain  me  from  those  excursions. 
The  mildness  of  a climate  in  which  the  popu- 
lation sleep  in  the  open  air,  and  the  abun- 
| dance  of  fruits,  met  the  two  chief  difficulties 
| of  travelling.  I felt  an  irresistible  impulse 
to  penetrate  the  mountain  ranges,  that  rose 
in  chains  of  purple  and  azure  before  me. 
With  the  artifice  of  the  diseased  mind  I 
made  my  few  preparations  in  secret ; and 
with  but  script  and  staff,  marched  forth  to 
tread  hill  and  valley,  city  and  desert,  to  the 
last  limit  of  the  globe. 

Through  what  diversities  of  scene,  or  im- 
pediments of  road  I long  passed,  no  memory 
rests  upon.  The  same  instinct  which  guides 
;the  bird,  led  me  to  the  fruit-tree  and  the 
stream,  taught  where  to  shelter  for  the  night, 
land  gave  me  sagacity  for  the  avoidance  of 
the  habitual  dangers  of  a route  seldom  tried 
but  by  the  wolf  and  the  robber.  But  my 
frame,  gradually  invigorated  by  exercise, 
bore  me  through  : and  I scaled  the  chain  of 
Libanus  with  an  unwearied  foot. 

There  I reached  the  skirts  of  a region 
where  the  snow  scarcely  melts  even  in  the 
burning  summer  of  Syria.  The  falling  of 
the  leaf,  and  the  furious  blasts  that  bursts 
through  the  ravines,  told  me  that  I had  spent 
months  in  my  pilgrimage,  and  that  I must 
brave  winter  on  its  throne.  Still  I perse- 
vered. I felt  a new  excitement  in  the  new 
difficulty  of  the  season  ; I longed  to  try  my 
power  of  endurance  against  the  storm,  to 
wrestle  with  the  whirlwind,  to  baffle  the  tor- 
rent. The  very  sight  of  the  snow,  as  it 
began  to  sheet  the  sides  of  the  lower  hills, 
Igave  me  a vague  idea  of  a brighter  realm  of 
existence ; it  united  the  pinnacles  with  the 
clouds ; the  noble  promontories  and  forest- 
covered  eminences  no  longer  rose  in  stern 
contrast,  with  the  sky;  they  were  dipt  in 
celestial  blue;  they  wore  the  silvery  and 
sparkling  lustre  of  the  morning  skies;  they 
blushed  in  the  effulgence  of  the  sunset  with 
as  rich  a crimson  as  the  clouds  that  crowned 
them. 

But  all  was  not  fantastic  vision.  From  the 
summit  of  one  of  those  hills  I saw  what  was 
then  worth  a pilgrimage  through  half  the 
world  to  see,  the  cedar  grove  of  Lebanon. 
After  a day  of  unusual  fatigue  and  perplexity, 
1 had  found  my  path  blocked  up  by  a perpen- 
dicular pile  of  rock.  To  all  but  myself,  the 
difficulty  might  have  been  impractible : but 
my  habits  had  given  me  the  spring  and  mus- 
cle of  a panther;  I bounded  against  the  mar- 
ble, and  after  long  effort,  by  the  help  of  the 
weeds,  and  scattered  roots  of  the  wild  vines, 
climbed  my  perilous  way  to  the  summit, 


Yet  I was 


Salat  hiel. 


35 


An  endless  range  of  Syria  lay  beneath  ; the 
sea  and  the  wilderness  gleamed  on  my  left 
and  right;  and  a rich  succession  of  dells, 
crowded  with  the  date,  the  olive,  and  the 
grape,  in  their  autumnal  dyes,  spread  out 
before  me,  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach  in  a 
land  whose  air  is  pure  as  crystal. 

A sound  of  trumpets  and  wild  harmonies 
arose,  and  I discovered,  at  an  almost  view- 
less depth  below,  a concourse  of  people  mov- 
ing' through  the  hollows  of  the  mountains. 
The  tendency  of  man  to  man  is  irresistible; 
and  that  unexpected  sight,  where  but  the 
wild  beast  and  the  eagle  were  to  have  been 
my  companions,  gave  me  the  first  sensation 
of  pleasure  that  I had  long  experienced. 
Bounding  from  rock  to  rock  with  a hazardous 
rapidity  which  arrested  the  crowd  in  aston- 
ishment and  alarm,  I joined  them  just  in 
time  to  see  the  shafts  and  slings  laid  down 
which  they  had  prepared  for  my  coming,  in 
the  uncertainty  whether  I were  a wolf  or  a 
mountain  robber. 

They  formed  one  of  the  many  caravans: 
that  annually  gathered  from  the  shores  of 
the  Mediterranean  to  worship  at  Lebanon. 
Their  homage  to  sacred  groves  had  been 
transmitted  from  the  earliest  antiquity,  and 
was  universal  in  the  realms  of  paganism. 
To  the  Jew,  worship  on  the  hill  and  under 
the  tree  was  prohibited  ; but  the  forest  that 
Solomon  had  chosen,  the  trees  of  which  the; 
first  Temple  was  built,  the  foliage  which; 
shaded  the  first  planters  of  the  earth,  must  to  i 
the  descendant  of  Abraham  be  full  of  rev-! 
erent  interest.  The  ground  was  scriptural ; 
the  fiery  string  of  the  prophet  Ezekiel  had 
been  struck  to  its  praise;  the  noblest  rap- 
tures of  our  poets  celebrated  the  glory  of 
Lebanon  ; the  names  of  the  surrounding  land- 
scape recalled  lofty  and  lovely  memories;  the 
vale  of  Eden  led  to  the  mountain  of  the 
Cedars ! 

To  my  fellow  travellers  traditions  tinged 
by  the  fervid  coloring  of  the  oriental  fancy, 
heightened  the  native  power  of  the  spot. 
On  the  summits  of  the  trees  were  said  to  de- 
scend at  appointed  times  those  ministering 
spirits  whose  purpose  is  to  rectify  the  crimes 
of  man.  There  stooped  on  the  wing  the  bear- 
ers of  the  sword  against  the  heads  of  evil 
monarchs ; there  brooded  the  angel  of  the 
tempests;  there  the  invisible  ruler  of  the 
pestilence  blew  with  his  breath,  and  nations 
sickened  ; there  in  night  and  in  the  interval 
of  storms  was  heard  the  trumpet  that,  before 
kings  dreamed  of  quarrel,  announced  the 
collision  of  guilty  empires  for  their  mutual 
ruin. 

The  violation  of  the  grove  was  supposed 
to  be  visited  with  the  most  inexorable  calam- 
ity; the  hand  that  cut  down  a tree  for  any 
ordinary  use  withered  from  the  body;  all 


dissolved  away,  his  cattle  perished,  his  chil- 
dren died  in  their  prime  ; if  life  was  suffered 
to  linger  in  himself,  it  was  only  to  perpetuate 
the  warning  of  the  punishment.  But  there 
were  gentler  distinctions  mingled  with  those 
stern  attributes.  Above  the  hill  was  the 
pagan  entrance  to  the  skies.  Once  in  the 
year  the  celestial  gate  rolled  back  on  its 
golden  hinges  with  sound  surpassing  mortal 
music ; the  heavens  dropt  balm  ; the  prayer 
offered  on  that  night  reached  at  once  the 
supreme  throne;  the  tear  was  treasured  in 
the  volume  of  light:  and  the  worshipper  who 
died  before  the  envious  coming  of  the  morn, 
ascended  to  a felicity,  earned  by  others  only 
through  the  tardy  trial  of  the  grave.  The 
river  which  ran  round  the  mountain’s  foot, 
bore  its  share  of  virtue ; its  water,  unpolluted 
by  the  decay  of  autumn,  or  the  turbidness 
of  winter,  showed  the  preservative  power 
of  a superior  being;  it  was  entitled  the 
Holy  Stream;  and  sealed  vessels  of  it  were 
sent  even  to  India  and  Italy,  presents  of 
health  and  sanctity  to  kings,  and  worthy  of 
kings. 

As  we  entered  the  last  defile,  the  minstrels 
and  singers  of  the  caravan  commenced  a 
psean.  Altars  fumed  from  various  points  of 
the  chasm  above  ; and  the  Syrian  priests  were 
seen  in  their  robes  performing  the  empty  rites 
of  idolatry.  I turned  away  from  this  perver- 
sion of  human  reason,  and  pressed  forward 
through  the  lingering  multitude,  until  the 
forest  rose  in  its  majesty  before  me. 

My  step  was  checked  in  solemn  admira- 
tion. I saw  the  earliest  produce  of  the  earth 
— the  patriarchs  of  the  vegetable  world.  The 
first  generation  of  the  reviving  globe  had  sat 
beneath  these  green  and  lovely  arches  ; the 
final  generation  was  to  sit  beneath  them. 
No  roof  so  noble  ever  rose  above  the  heads 
of  monarchs,  though  it  were  covered  with 
gold  and  diamonds. 

Thp  forest  had  been  greatly  impaired  in  its 
extent  and  beauty  by  the  sacrilegious  hand 
of  war.  The  perpetual  conflicts  of  the  Sy- 
rian and  Egyptian  dynasties  laid  the  axe  to  it 
with  remorseless  violation.  It  once  spread 
over  the  whole  range  of  the  mountains;  its 
diminished  strength  now,  like  the  relics  of  a 
mighty  army,  made  its  stand  among  the  cen- 
tral fortresses  of  its  native  region  : and  there 
majestically  bade  defiance  to  the  farther  as- 
sault of  steel  and  fire.  The  forms  of  the 
trees  seemed  made  for  duration  ; the  trunks 
were  of  prodigious  thickness,  smooth  and 
round  as  pillars  of  marble;  some  rising  to  a 
srreat  height,  and  throwung  out  a vast  level 
roof " of  foliage;  some  dividing  into  a cluster 
of  trunks,  and  with  their  various  heights  of 
branch  and  leaf,  making  a succession  of  ver- 
durous caves;  some  propagating  themselves 
by  circles  of  young  cedars,  risen  where  the 


misfortune  fell  upon  the  man;  his  wealth|  (fruit  had  dropped  upon  the  ground  : the  whole 


36 


Salathiel. 


bore  the  aspect  of  a colossal  temple  of  nature 
• — the  shafted  column,  the  deep  arch,  the 
solid  buttresses  branching  off  into  the  richest 
caprices  of  oriental  architecture,  the  solemn 
roof  high  above,  pale,  yet  painted  by  the 
strong  sunlight  through  the  leaves  with  trans- 
parent and  tesselated  dyes  rich  as  the  colors 
of  the  Indian  mine. 

In  the  momentary  feeling  of  awe  and  won- 
der, I could  comprehend  why  paganism  loved 
to  worship  under  the  shade  of  forests ; and 
why  the  poets  of  paganism  filled  that  shade 
with  the  attributes  and  presence  of  deities. 
The  airy  whisperings,  the  loneliness,  the  rich 
twilight,  were  the  very  food  of  mystery. 
Even  the^forms  that  towered  before  the  eye  ; 
those  ancient  trees,  the  survivors  of  the  gene- 
ral law  of  mortality,  gigantic,  hoary,  covered 
with  their  weedy  robes,  bowing  their  aged 
heads  in  the  blast,  and  uttering  strange 
sounds  and  groanings  in  the  struggle,  gave 
to  the  high-wrought  superstition  of  the  soul 
the  images  of  things  unearthly  ; the  oracle 
and  the  God  ! Or  was  this  impression  but  the 
obscure  revival  of  one  of  those  lovely  truths 
that  shone  upon  the  days  of  Paradise,  when 
man  drew  knowledge  from  its  fount  in  Na- 
ture; and  all  but  his  own  passions  was  dis- 
closed to  the  first  born  of  creation. 

The  caravan  encamped  in  the  bottom  of 
the  valley,  and  the  grove  was  soon  crowded 
with  worshippers,  in  whose  homage  I could 
take  no  share.  Fires  were  lighted  on  the 
large  stones,  which  had  for  ages  served  the 
purpose  of  altars;  and  the  names  of  the  Sy- 
rian idols  were  shouted  and  sung  in  the  fierce 
exultation  of  a worship  but  slightly  purified 
from  its  original  barbarism.  As  the  night 
fell,  I withdrew  to  the  entrance  of  the  defile, 
and  gave  a last  glance  at  Lebanon.  In  the 
grove  filled  with  fires,  and  echoing  with  wild 
music  and  dances  of  riot,  1 saw  the  emblem 
of  my  fallen  country:  the  holiness,  old  as  the 
oldest  memory  of  nations,  profaned  ; yet  the 
existence  preserved,  and  still  to  be  preserved  ; 
Israel  once  throned  upon  its  mountains,  now 
diminished  of  its  beauty;  to  be  yet  more 
diminished  ; but  to  live,  when  all  else  perish- 
ed ; to  be  restored,  and  to  cover  its  native  hills 
again  with  glory.  I buried  my  face  in  my  robe, 
and  throwing  myself  down  by  the  skirt  of  one 
of  the  tents,  gave  way  to  meditations  sweet 
and  bitter.  They  passed  into  my  sleep,  and  I 
was  once  more  in  the  bosom  of  my  family. 

I heard  my  name  pronounced;  I listened; 
the  name  of  my  wife  followed.  I looked  to 
the  sky,  to  the  forest,  to  convince  me  that 
this  was  no  mockery  of  the  diseased  mind.  I 
was  fully  awake.  I lifted  up  the  corner  of 
the  te-nt.  Savage  figures  were  sitting  over 
their  cups,  inflamed  into  quarrel  ; and  in  the 
midst  of  high  words  and  execrations  I heard 
their  story.  They  were  robbers  from  Mount 
Amanus ; come,  equally  to  purify  their  hands  j 


by  offering  sacrifice  at  Lebanon,  and  to  re- 
compense themselves  for  their  losttime  by  rob- 
bing on  the  way  home.  The  quarrel  had  arisen 
from  the  proposal  of  one  of  them  to  extend 
; their  expedition  into  Judea,  a proposal  which 
he  sustained  by  mentioning  the  success  of  his 
previous  enterprises.  My  name  was  again 
sent  from  mouth  to  mouth,  and  I found  that 
it  was  inscribed  on  some  jewel  which  formed 
a part  of  his  plunder.  The  thought  struck 
me  that  this  might  afford  a clue.  I burst  into 
'<  the  tent,  and  demanded  my  wife  and  child- 
ren. The  ruffians  started  as  if  they  were  in 
the  presence  of  a spectre.  “ Where,”  I re- 
peated, “ are  my  family  1 I am  Salathiel!” 
“ Safe  enough,”  said  the  foremost.  “ Are 
they  alive  1”  1 cried;  “lead  me  where  they 
are,  and  you  shall  have  what  ransom  you 
desire.”  The  ruffian  laughed.  “Why,  as 
for  ransom,  all  the  money  has  been  made  by 
them  that  is  likely  to  be  made  for  some  time  ; 
unless  the  Greek  that  bought  them  repents 
of  his  bargain.”  The  speech  was  received 
with  loud  laughter.  I grew  furious.  “Vil- 
lains, you  have  murdered  them.  Tell  me 
the  whole,  show  me  where  they  lie;  or  I 
will  deliver  you  up  to  the  chief  of  the  cara- 
van as  robbers  and  murderers.”  They  were 
appalled;  with  a single  stride  I was  at  the 
throat  of  the  leading  ruffian,  and  seized  the 
jewel ; it  was  my  bridal  present  to  Miriam  ! 
My  hand  trembled,  my  eves  grew  dim  at  the 
glance.  In  the  next  moment  I found  myself 
pinioned,  a gag  forced  into  my  mouth,  a 
cloak  flung  over  me,  and  I was  left  to  listen 
to  the  discussion,  whether  I was  to  be  stabbed 
on  the  spot,  left  to  die  of  famine,  or  have  my 
tongue  cut  out,  and  thus,  unfitted  for  telling 
secrets,  be  turned  to  gain,  and  sold  for  a slave. 

But  my  preservation  was  not  distant.  The 
quarrel  of  the  banditti  increased  with  their 
wine;  blows  were  given;  the  solitary  lamp 
was  thrown  down  in  the  conflict ; it  caught 
I some  combustible  matter;  the  tent  was  in  a 
blaze.  By  a violent  exertion  T loosened  the 
cords  from  my  arms,  and  in  the  confusion 
fled  unseen.  The  fire  spread  ; and  my  last 
glance  at  the  valley  showed  the  encampment 
turned  into  a sea  of  fire. 

Alone,  in  pain,  and  exhausted  with  deadly 
jfatigue,  I yet  had  but  one  thought,  that  of 
seeking  my  family  through  the  world.  I 
wandered  on,  through  the  vast  range  of  wild 
country  that  guards  Syria  on  the  side  of  the 
desert.  I was  parched  by  the  burning  noon, 
I was  frozen  by  the  keen  winds  of  night,  I 
hungered  and  thirsted  ; yet  the  determina- 
tion was  strong  as  dpath,  and  I persevered. 

I at  length  reached  the  foot  of  Mount  Ama- 
nns,  traversed  the  chain,  saw  from  it  the 
interminable  plains  of  Asia  Minor,  the  desert 
of  Aleppo,  the  shores  of  Tripoli;  and  was 
then  left  only  to  choose  in  which  I should 
| again  commence  my  hopeless  pilgrimage. 


Salathiel. 


37 


There  is  something  in  great  distress  of  i 
mind,  that  throws  a strange  protection  round 
the  sufferer.  I passed  the  Roman  guards 
unquestioned — the  robber  left  me  without 
inquiring  whether  I was  worth  his  dagger. 
The  wolves  driven  down  by  famine,  and  de-j 
vouring  all  else  that  had  life,  neglected  the 
banquet  that  I might  have  supplied.  Yet  I 
shrank  from  none  of  the  evils,  but  marched 
on  through  garrison,  cave  and  forest.  But 
one  evening  the  sky  was  loaded  with  a tem- 
pest that  drove  even  me  to  seek  for  shelter.  1 
found  it  in  one  of  the  promontories  that  so 
often  scare  the  mariner’s  eye  on  the  iron 
bound  shore  of  Cilicia. 

Fatigue  soon  threw  me  into  a heavy  slum- 
ber. But  the  weight  of  the  tempest  towards 
midnight  roused  me,  and  from  the  mouth  of  i 
the  cave  I gazed  on  the  lightnings,  that,  red 
with  resistless  rage,  disclosed  at  every  ex- 
plosion immense  tracts  of  sea  rolling  in  foam- 
ing ridges  before  the  gale.  In  the  intervals 
of  the  gusts  I heard  to  my  surprise  the  mur- 
mur of  many  voices,  apparently  in  prayer, 
close  beside  me.  But  all  my  interest  was 
suddenly  fixed  on  the  sea,  by  the  sight  of  a 
large  war-galley  running  before  the  wind. 
She  had  neither  sail  nor  oar.  Her  masts 
were  gone  by  the  board ; and,  but  for  the 
crowd  of  people  on  her  deck,  whose  distracted 
attitudes  I could  clearly  see  by  flashes,  she 
looked  a floating  tomb. 

To  summon  whatever  assistance  might  be 
at  hand,  I cried  aloud  ; to  warn  the  galley  of 
the  hazardsof  the  shore,  I gathered  the  brush- 
wood at  the  mouth  of  the  cavern,  and  set  it 
on  fire.  A shout  from  the  crew  told  me  that 
my  signal  was  understood ; and  I rushed 
down  the  bed  of  a stream  that  fretted  its  way 
through  the  precipice.  Before  I reached  the 
shore,  I saw  various  fires  blazing  above,  and 
many  figures  hurrying  down  on  a purpose 
like  my  own.  We  had  not  arrived  too  soon. 
The  galley,  after  desperate  efforts  to  keep  the 
sea,  had  run  for  an  inlet  of  the  rock,  and  was 
embayed  ; surge  on  surge,  each  higher  than 
the  one  before,  rolled  over  the  ill-fated  vessel, 
and  each  swept  some  portion  of  her  crew  into 
the  deep.  We  rushed  into  the  waves,  and 
had  succeeded  in  drawing  many  to  shore  ; 
when  a broader  burst,  the  concentrated  force 
of  the  tempest,  thundered  on  the  galley ; she 
was  broken  into  splinters.  Stunned  and  half 
suffocated  with  the  surge,  I grasped,  in  the 
mere  instinct  of  self-preservation,  at  whatever 
was  nearest;  and  through  infinite  hazard 
reached  the  shore  with  a body  in  my  arms. 
Need  I tell  the  keen  succession  of  terror, 
anxiety,  hope  and  joy,  when  I found  that  this; 
being  whom  I saw  lifeless,  and  at  length 
breathing,  moving,  pronouncing  my  name, 
falling  on  my  neck,  was  Miriam  ! 

My  daughters,  too,  were  rescued.  The 
nearness  of  the  shore  saved  the  crew,  who, 


! until  they  saw  the  beacon  on  the  rocks,  had 
j given  themselves  up  to  despair.  The  chance 
of  help  led  them  to  steer  close  in  land,  and  I 
was  congratulated  as  the  general  preserver. 
Miriam’s  story  was  brief.  Our  dwelling  had 
been  surrounded  by  a troop  of  robbers.  The 
household  were  surprised  in  their  sleep.  Re- 
sistance was  vain,  the  rest  was  plunder  and 
captivity.  The  robbers,  fearful  of  pursuit, 
took  the  road  to  the  mountains  at  full  speed. 
My  wife  and  daughters  were  treated  with 
unusual  care,  lest  their  beauty  should  be  in- 
jured, and  thus  their  value  in  the  slave-mar- 
ket of  Tripoli  be  impaired.  As  the  robber 
told  me,  they  had  been  purchased  by  a Greek 
merchant  of  Cyprus,  and  by  him  conveyed  to 
his  island,  to  be  sold  to  some  more  opulent 
master.  There  they  were  redeemed  by  an 
act  of  equal  generosity  and  valor,  and  were 
returning  to  Judea  when  the  storm  overtook 
them. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

When  the  first  tumult  of  our  spirits  was 
past,  I had  leisure  to  see  what  changes  the 
interval  had  made  in  faces  so  loved.  Miri- 
am’s betrayed  the  hours  of  distress  and  pain 
that  she  must  have  passed  ; but  her  noble 
style  of  beauty,  the  emanation  of  a noble 
mind,  was  as  conspicuous  as  ever.  I even 
thought  when  her  large  eye  fell  on  me  from 
time  to  time,  that  it  shone  with  a loftier  in- 
telligence, as  if  misfortune  had  raised  its  vi- 
sion above  the  things  of  our  trivial  world. 
My  daughters’  forms  had  matured  ; but  Sa- 
lome, the  elder,  wore  a portion  of  her  mother’s 
look;  her  laughing  glance  still  beamed,  yet 
she  was  often  lost  in  meditation  ; and  the 
rapid  changes  of  her  cheek,  from  the  deepest 
crimson  to  the  paleness  of  snow,  alarmed  me 
with  menaces  of  early  decay.  Esther  too 
had  undergone  her  revolution.  But  it  was 
of  the  brightest  texture.  The  seas,  the  skies, 
the  mountains  of  Greece,  filled  her  glowing 
spirit  with  images  of  new  life.  She  had  lis- 
tened with  boundless  delight  to  the  traditions 
of  that  most  brilliant  of  all  people  ; the  works 
of  the  pencil  and  the  chisel  had  met  her  eye 
in  a profuseness  and  perfection  that  she  had 
never  contemplated  before  ; her  harp  echoed 
to  names  of  romantic  valor  and  proud  patriot- 
ism, and  as  I gazed  on  her  in  those  hours, 
when,  in  the  feeling  that  she  was  unobserved, 
she  gave  way  to  the  rich  impulses  of  her  soul, 
I thought  alternately  of  the  prophetess  and 
of  'he  muse. 

The  shipwreck  converted  this  solitary 
shore  into  a little  village;  the  sailors  collect- 
ed the  fragments  of  the  vessel  and  formed 
them  into  huts;  the  caves  that  ran  along  the 
level  of  the  sands,  supplied  habitations  of 
themselves ; and  by  the  assistance  of  those 
dwellers  on  the  precipice  who  had  so  unex» 


38 


Salalhiel. 


pectedly  started  to  light,  the  first  difficulties 
of  a wild  coast  were  sufficiently  combated. 
The  bustling  activity  of  the  Greek  mariners, 
and  the  adroitness  with  which  they  availed 
themselves  of  all  contrivances  for  passing  the 
heavy  hour,  their  sleights  of  hand,  sports  and 
dances,  their  recitations  of  popular  poems, 
and  their  boat  songs,  kept  the  spot  in  contin- 
ual animation.  This  was  my  first  opportunity 
of  contact  with  the  actual  people,  and  1 ac- 
knowledged their  right  to  have  been  distin- 
guished among  the  most  showy  disturbers  of 
mankind.  The  evil  of  the  character,  too, 
was  displayed  without  much  trouble  of  dis- 
guise. They  habitually  gamed,  till  they  had 
no  better  stake  than  the  fragments  of  their 
own  clothing ; but  they  would  game  for  a 
shell,  for  a stone  that  they  picked  up  on  the 
sands,  for  any  thing.  They  quarrelled  with 
as  perfect  facility  as  they  gamed  : the  knife 
was  out  quick  as  lightning  ; but  to  do  them 
justice,  tiieir  wrath  was  as  brief.  The  com- 
batants embraced  at  a word,  danced,  kissed, 
and  wept;  then  drank,  gamed,  quarrelled, 
and  were  sworn  brothers  again.  But  this 
was  Greece  in  its  lowest  rank.  Constantius, 
the  commander  of  the  galley,  was  a specimen 
of  the  land  which  produced  a Plato  and  a Pe- 
ricles. When  I first  saw  him  led  by  Miriam, 
as  the  generous  champion  who  had  restored 
her  and  her  children  to  happiness,  I saw  vir- 
tue and  manliness  of  the  highest  order  in  his 
features.  He  was  still  in  his  prime;  but  a 
scar  across  his  forehead,  and  the  severities  of 
martial  life,  gave  early  seriousness  to  his 
countenance.  But  his  conversation  had  the 
full  spirit  of  the  spring-time  of  life.  It  was 
incomparably  rich,  various,  and  animated; 
altogether  free  from  professional  pedantry,  it 
had  the  interest  that  belongs  to  professional 
feelings.  Military  adventure,  striking  traits 
of  warlike  intelligence,  the  composition  of 
the  fleets  and  armies  of  the  various  states 
that  fought  under  the  wing  of  the  Roman 
eagle,  with  their  old  valor  invigorated  by 
their  new  discipline,  were  topics  on  which  his 
fire  was  exhaustless.  On  those  I listened  to 
him  with  the  strong  sympathy  of  one  to 
whom  war  must  henceforth  be  the  grand  pur- 
suit; war  for  national  freedom,  war  purified 
of  its  evil  by  the  most  illustrious  cause  that 
ever  summoned  the  sword. 

He  had  conversation  for  us  all.  His  inter- 
course with  the  ruling  lands  of  the  earth 
gave  him  a copious  store  of  recollections,  pic- 
turesque, superb,  and  strange.  E-ther  com- 
bated and  questioned  the  traveller.  Salome 
listened  to  the  warrior — listened,  and  loved. 
He  had  higher  topics  of  which  I was  yet  to 
hear.  In  the  inhabitants  of  the  precipice  he 
found  a little  colony  of  his  countrymen,  fugi- 
tive Christians,  driven  out  by  persecution  to 
make  their  home  in  the  wilderness  of  nature. 
The  long  range  of  caverns  which  perforated 


the  rock  gave  them  a roof.  The  fertility  of 
the  soil,  and  the  occasional  visit  of  a bark 
sent  by  their  concealed  friends,  supplied  the 
necessaries  and  some  of  the  conveniences  of 
life,  and  there  they  awaited  the  close  of  that 
ferocious  tyranny  which  at  length  roused  the 
world  against  Nero;  or  awaited  the  close  of 
all  suffering  in  the  grave. 

A succession  of  storms  rendered  travelling 
impossible,  and  detained  us  among  those  her- 
mits for  some  days.  I found  them  intelli- 
gent, and,  in  general,  men  of  the  higher 
ranks  of  knowledge  and  condition.  Some 
were  of  celebrated  families,  and  had  left  be- 
hind them  opulence  and  authority.  A few 
were  peasants.  But  misfortune,  and,  still 
more,  principle,  extinguished  all  that  was 
abrupt  in  the  inequality  of  ranks,  without 
leaving  license  in  its  stead.  Jew  as  I was, 
j and  steadily  bound  to  the  customs  of  my 
'country,  I yet  did  honor  to  the  patience,  the 
humility,  and  the  devotedness,  of  those  exiled 
men.  I even  once  attended  their  worship  on 
the  first  day  of  the  week ; assured  that  the 
abomination  of  idols  was  not  to  be  found 
there,  and  that  I should  hear  nothing  insult- 
ing to  the  name  of  Israel. 

The  ceremonial  was  simple.  Those  who 
had  witnessed  the  heaven-commanded  mag- 
nificence of  the  Temple,  might  smile  at  the 
| barrenness  of  the  walls  of  rock,  figured  only 
with  the  wild  herbage ; or  those  who  had 
borne  to  see  the  extravagant  and  complicated 
rites  of  paganism,  might  scorn  the  few  and 
obvious  forms  of  the  homage.  But  there  was 
the  spirit  of  strong  prayer — the  breathing  of 
the  heart,  the  unanswerable  sincerity.  Every 
violence  of  the  mere  animal  frame  was  un- 
known. I saw  no  pagan  convulsion — no 
fierceness  of  outcry  and  gesture — not  even 
the  vehement  solemnity  of  the  Jew.  All 
was  calm  ; tears  stole  down,  but  they  stole  in 
silence;  knees  were  bowed,  but  there  was  no 
prostration ; prayers,  fervent  and  lofty,  were 
poured  forth,  but  it  was  in  accents  uttered 
less  from  the  lip  than  from  the  soul,  appeals 
of  hallowed  confidence  to  a Being  that  was 
sure  to  hear;  the  voice  of  children  to  a Fa- 
ther and  a God,  who,  wherever  two  or  three 
were  gathered  together,  was  in  the  midst  of 
them. 

At  length  the  storms  cleared  away,  and  the 
sky  wore  the  native  azure  of  the  climate.  A 
messenger  despatched  to  Cyprus,  returned 
with  a vessel  for  the  embarkation  of  the 
Greeks.  Camels  and  mules  were  procured 
from  the  neighboring  country  for  our  journey, 
and  the  morning  was  fixed  on  which  we 
were  to  separate.  Yet  with  so  much  reason 
for  joy,  few  resolutions  could  have  been  re- 
i ceived  with  less  favor.  Constantius  almost 
shunned  society,  or  shared  in  it  with  a silence 
and  depression  that  made  his  philosophy  more 
than  questionable.  Miriam  was  engaged  in 


Salathiel. 


39 


long  conferences  with  Salome,  from  which 
they  both  came  sad.  Esther  was  thus  my 
chief  companion,  and  she  talked  of  the  shore, 
the  sea,  and  even  of  the  tempests,  with  height- 
ened interest.  The  Greeks,  sailor  and  sol- 
dier alike,  loved  too  well- the  romantic  ease 
and  careless  adventure  of  the  place,  to  look 
with  complacency  on  the  little  vessel  in  which 
they  were  to  be  borne  once  more  into  the  land 
of  restraint.  The  fugitive  colony  were  not 
the  slowest  in  their  regrets.  They  had  been 
deeply  prepared  for  human  vicissitude,  and 
had  humbled  themselves  to  all  things  ; yet, 
such  is  the  strong  and  natural  connection  of 
man  with  man,  they  lamented  the  solitude  to 
which  they  must  again  be  left,  like  the  com- 
mencement of  a new  exile. 

There  are  few  things  more  singular  than 
the  blindness  which,  in  matters  of  the  highest 
importance  to  ourselves,  often  hides  the  truth 
that  is  plain  as  noon  to  all  other  eyes.  The 
cause  which  deprived  Constantius  of  his  elo- 
quence, and  Salome  of  her  animation,  was 
obvious  to  every  one  but  me.  Nor  was  the 
mystery  yet  to  be  disclosed  to  my  tardy  know- 
ledge. 

I had  strayed  through  the  cliffs,  as  was  my 
custom  after  the  heat  of  the  day,  and  was 
taking  a last  look  of  the  sea  from  one  of  the 
thickets  on  the  e^ge  of  the  precipice.  The 
sands  far  below  me  were  covered  with  prepa- 
ration for  the  voyage,  which,  like  our  journey, 
was  to  commence  with  the  rising  sun.  The 
little  vessel  lay,  a glittering  toy,  at  anchor, 
with  her  thread-like  streamers  playing  in  the 
breeze.  The  sailors  were  fishing,  preparing 
their  evening  meal,  heaving  water  and  provi- 
sions down  the  rocks,  or  enjoying  themselves 
over  flagons  of  Syrian  wine  round  their  fires ; 
all  was  the  activity  of  a sea-port ; but,  from 
the  height  on  which  I lay,  all  was  but  the 
activity  of  a mole-hill.  “ And  is  it  of  such 
materials,”  mused  I,  “ that  ambition  is  made! 
is  it  to  command,  to  be  gazed  on,  to  be  shout- 
ed after  by  such  mites  and  atoms  as  those, 
that  life  is  exhausted  in  watching  and  weari- 
ness ; that  our  true  enjoyments  are  sacrificed  ; 
that  the  present  and  the  future  are  equally 
cast  from  us;  that  the  hand  is  dipped  in 
blood,  and  the  earth  desolated  ? What  must 
Alexander’s  triumph  have  looked  to  one  who 
saw  it  from  the  towers  of  Babylon  1 a triumph 
of  emmets!”  I smiled  at  the  moral  of  three 
hundred  feet  of  precipice. 

A step  in  the  thicket  put  philosophy  to 
flight.  My  wife  stood  before  me ; and  never 
saw  I even  her  beauty  more  beautiful.  The 
exertion  of  the  ascent  had  colored  her  cheek ; 
the  breeze  had  scattered  her  raven  locks 
across  a forehead  of  the  purest  white ; her  lip 
wore  the  smile  so  long  absent ; and  there  was 
altogether  an  air  of  hope  and  joy  in  her  coun- 
tenance that  made  me  instinctively  ask  of 
what  good  news  she  was  the  bearer.  With- 


! out  a word  she  sat  down  beside  me,  and 
pressed  my  hands  between  her’s;  she  fixed 
her  eyes  on  mine,  tried  to  speak,  and,  failing, 
fell  on  my  neck  and  burst  into  tears.  Alarm- 
ed at  her  sobs,  and  the  wild  beating  of  her 
heart,  I was  about  to  rise  for  assistance,  when 
she  detained  me,  and  the  smile  returned;  she 
bared  her  forehead  to  the  breeze,  and,  recover- 
ing, disburdened  her  soul. 

“ How  many  billows,”  said  she,  gazing  on 
the  sea,  “will  roll  between  that  little  bark 
and  this  shore  to-morrow  ! There  is  always 
[Something  melancholy  in  parting.  Yet,  if 
, that  vessel  could  feel,  with  what  delight 
would  she  not  wing  her  way  to  Cyprus,  love- 
ly Cyprus?” 

I was  surprised  ! “ Miriam,  this  from  you? 

! Can  you  regret  the  place  of  paganism — the 
land  of  your  captivity  !” 

“ No,”  was  the  answer,  with  a look  of  lofty 
truth  : “I  abhorred  the  guilty  profanations  of 
the  pagan  ; and  who  can  love  the  dungeon  1 
Even  were  Cyprus  a paradise,  I should  have 
felt  unhappy  in  the  separation  of  iny  country 
and  from  you.  Yet  those  alone  who  have 
seen  the  matchless  loveliness  of  the  island — 
the  perpetual  animation  of  life  in  a climate, 
and  in  the  midst  of  scenes  made  for  happiness 
— can  know  the  sacrifice  that  must  be  made 
by  its  people  in  leaving  it,  and  leaving  it 
perhaps  forever.” 

j “ The  crew  of  that  galley  are  not  to  be 
tried  by  long  exile.  In  two  days,  at  farthest, 
they  will  anchor  in  their  own  harbors.” 

“ And  how  deeply  must  the  sacrifice  be, 
enhanced  by  the  abandonment  of  rank,  wealth, 
professional  honors  ! and  this^is  the  sacrifice  on 
which  I have  been  sent  to  consult  my  hus- 
band.” 

I was  totally  at  a loss  to  conceive  of  whom 
she  spoke. 

“ Our  friend — our  deliverer  from  captivity 
or  death — the  generous  being,  who  through 
infinite  hazards,  restored  your  wife  and  child- 
ren to  happiness  and  home — ” 
j “ Constantius ! impossible.  At  the  very 
age  of  ambition,  with  his  talents,  his  know- 
ledge of  life,  his  prospects  of  the  highest  dis- 
tinction ? — ” 

“Constantius  will  never  return  to  Cyprus 
in  that  galley — will  never  draw  sword  for 
;Rome  again — will  never  quit  the  land  given 
by  Heaven  to  our  fathers  ; if  such  be  the  will 
of  Salathiel.” 

, “ Strange.  But  his  motives?  he  is  supe- 

rior to  the  fickleness  that  abandons  an  honor- 
able course  of  life  through  the  pure  love  of 
novelty  : or  is  he  weary  of  the  absurdities  of 
paganism  ?” 

“ Thoroughly  weary — more  than  weary  , 
he  has  abjured  them  forever  and  ever.” 

“ You  rejoice  me.  But  it  was  to  be  ex- 
pected  from  his  manly  mind.  You  have 
I brought  an  illustrious  convert,  my  beloved  ; 


40 


Sa  la  (hi el. 


and  if  your  captivity  has  done  this,  it  was  the 
will  of  Heaven.  Constantins  shall  be  led 
with  distinction  to  the  temple,  and  be  one  of 
ourselves.  Judea  may  yet  require  such  men. 
Our  holy  religion  may  exult  in  such  conquests 
from  the  darkness  of  the  idolatrous  world.” 

The  voice  of  the  hermits  at  their  evening 
prayer  now  arose,  and  held  us  in  silence, 
which  neither  seemed  inclined  to  break. 
Many  thoughts  pressed  on  my  mind  ; the  ad- 
dition to  our  circle  of  a man  whom  I honored 
and  esteemed  ; the  accession  of  a practised 
soldier  to  our  cause ; the  near  approach  of 
the  hour  of  conflict;  the  precarious  fate  of 
those  I loved,  in  the  great  convulsion  which 
was  to  rend  away  the  Roman  yoke,  or  leave 
Judea  a tomb.  I accidentally  looked  up,  and 
saw  that  Miriam  had  been  as  abstracted  as 
myself.  But  war  and  policy  were  not  in  the 
contemplations  of  the  beaming  countenance; 
nor  their  words  on  the  lips  that  quivered  and 
crimsoned  before  me.  Her  eyes  were  fixed 
on  the  sky,  and  she  was  in  evident  prayer, 
which  I desired  not  to  disturb.  She  at  length 
caught  my  glance,  and  blushed  like  one  de- 
tected ; but  quickly  recovering — said,  in  a 
tone  never  to  be  forgotten,  “ My  husband  ! 
my  lord  ! my  love  ! would  that  I dared  open 
my  whole  spirit  to  you  ! would  that  you  could 
read  for  yourself  the  truths  written  in  my 
heart !” 

“ M iriam !” 

“ This  is  no  reproach.  But  I know  your 
strength  of  opinion — your  passion  for  all  that 
concerns  the  glory  of  Israel ; — your  right,  the 
right  of  talents  and  character  to  the  foremost 
rank  among  the  oriesthood  ; and  those  things 
repel  me.” 

“Speak  out  at  once.  We  can  have  no 
concealments,  Miriam ; candor,  candor  in  all 
things.” 

“ You  have  heard  the  prayers  of  those  ex- 
iles; you  acknowledge  their  acquirements 
and  understandings ; they  have  sacrificed 
much,  every  thing — friends,  country,  the 
world.  Can  such  men  have  been  imposed  on  1 
can  they  have  imposed  on  themselves  1 Is  it 
possible  that  their  sacrifices  could  have  been 
made  for  a fiction  1” 

“ The  question  is  difficult.  We  are  strange- 
ly the  slaves  of  habit  and  impulse.  Men  every 
day  abandon  the  most  obvious  good  for  the  most 
palpable  follies.  Enthusiasm  is  a minor  mad- 
ness.” 

“ But  are  those  exiles  enthusiasts  ! They 
are  grave  men,  experienced  in  life  ; their  lan- 
guage is  totally  pure  from  extravagance ; they 
reason  with  singular  clearness ; they  live  with 
the  most  striking  command  over  the  habits  of 
their  original  condition.  Greeks,  you  see  no 
haste  of  temper,  no  violence  of  language 
among  them.  Once  idolaters,  they  shrink  from 
the  thought  of  idols.  Now  fugitive  and  perse- 
cuted, they  pray  for  their  persecutors  ; shar- 


ing the  lair  of  wild  beasts,  and  driven  out  from 
all  that  they  knew  and  loved,  they  utter  no 
complaint — they  even  rejoice  in  their  calam- 
ity, and  offer  up  praises  to  the  mercy  that  shut 
the  gates  of  earth  upon  their  steps,  only  to  open 
the  gates  of  heaven.” 

“I  am  no  persecutor,  Miriam.  Nay,  I honor 
the  self-denial,  as  I doubt  not  the  sincerity  of 
those  men.  But  if  they  have  thrown  off  a por- 
tion of  their  early  blindness,  why  not  desire  the 
full  illumination]  Why  linger  half  way  be- 
tween falsehood  and  truth!  It  is  not,  as  you 
know,  our  custom  to  solicit  proselytes.  But 
such  men  might  be  not  unworthy  of  the  hope 
of  Israel.” 

“ It  is  to  the  hope  of  Israel  that  they  have 
come,  that  they  cling,  that  they  look  up  for  a 
recompense;  a glorious  recompense  for  their 
sufferings.” 

“ Let  them  then  join  us  at  sunrise,  and 
come  to  our  holy  city.” 

“ Salathiel,  the  time  is  declared,  when  men 
shall  worship  not  in  that  mountain  alone,  but 
through  all  lands;  when  the  yoke  of  our  law 
shall  be  lightened,  and  the  weary  shall  have 
rest;  when  the  altar  shall  pass  away,  as  the 
illustrious  victim  has  passed  ; and  the  wisdom 
of  Heaven  shall  be  the  possession  of  all  man- 
kind.” 

I looked  at  her  in  astonishment.  “ Miriam, 
this  from  you  ! from  a daughter  of  the  blood 
of  Aaron  ! from  the  wife  of  a servant  of  the 
temple!  have  you  become  a Christian!” 

“ I have  done  nothing  in  presumption.  I 
have  prayed  to  the  Source  of  light  that  he 
would  enlighten  my  understanding;  I have 
night  and  day  examined  the  law  and  the  pro- 
phets. Bear  with  my  weakness,  Salathiel, 
if  it  be  proved  weakness.  But  if  it  be  wis- 
dom, knowledge,  and  truth,  I implore  you  by 
our  love,  by  the  higher  interests  of  your  own 
soul,  to  follow  my  example.” 

It  was  impossible  to  answer  harshly  to  a 
remonstrance  expressed  with  the  overflowing 
fondness  of  the  heart:  I could  only  remind 
her  of  the  unchangeable  promises  made  to 
Judaism. 

“ But  it  is  of  those  promises  I speak,”  urged 
she;  “ we  have  seen  the  day  that  our  father 
Abraham  longed  to  see;  that  mighty  Being, 
the  Lord  of  Eternity,  the  express  image  of 
the  fflory  of  the  Invisible,  the  hope  of  the  pat- 
riarch, the  promise  of  the  prophet,  has  come.” 

“Yet  Israel  is  divided  and  enslaved,  torn 
by  capricious  tyranny,  and  hurrying  to  the 
common  convulsions  and  common  ruin  of 
doomed  nations.  Is  this  the  triumphant  king- 
dom of  prophecy !” 

“ I have  doubted,  like  you  ; but  I have  been 
at  length  convinced  out  of  the  mouths  of  the 
prophets  themselves.  Have  they  not  de- 
clared that  Israel  should  suffer  before  it  tri- 
jumphed,  and  suffer  too  for  a period  that 
■ strikes  the  mind  with  terror!  that  the  King 


Salathiel. 


41 


of  Israel  should  be  excluded  from  his  king- 
dom,— nay,  take  upon  him  the  form  of  a ser-  j 
vant, — nay,  die,  and  die  by  a death  of  pain 
and  shame,  the  death  of  a slave  and  criminal  1” 

“It  is  so  written.  But  it  is  beyond  our 
power  to  reconcile.” 

“Pray  then  tor  the  power,  and  it  will  be 
given  to  you.  Ask  for  the  spirit  of  holy  in- 
telligence, and  it  will  enlighten  you.  Pride 
is  the  crime  of  our  nation.  Humility,  the  | 
righteous  resolution  to  follow  truth,  and  leave' 
prejudice  to  its  fate,  would  take  the  film  from 
the  eyes  of  our  people.  Salathiel,  my  lord,! 
the  being  treasured  in  my  heart.  Read  the! 
Scriptures.  I have  prayed  for  you.  Read ” 

“ But  how  can  the  promise  of  the  kingdom  ; 
be  resisted?  it  fills  the  whole  volume  of  pro- 
phecy. It  is  the  theme  first,  last,  and  with- 
out end,  of  all  the  inspired  masters  of  Israel. 
What  splendor  and  reality  of  history  was  ever 
more  vivid  and  real  than  the  glorious  prom- 
ises of  Isaiah  ?” 

“But  what  force  and  minuteness  of  pictur- 
ing ever  excelled  Isaiah’s  description  of  the 
loveliness,  the  obscurity,  the  rejection,  the 
agonies,  and  the  death  of  the  Messiah?  Why 
shall  we  suppose  that  the  one  description  is 
true,  and  the  other  false?  Has  not  the  same 
inspiration  given  both  ? Why  shall  we  con- 
ceive that  the  Messiah  and  his  kingdom  must 
appear  together?  We  see  the  time  of  his 
first  coming  defined  to  a year  by  our  great! 
prophet  Daniel.  But  where  do  we  see  the 
time  of  the  triumphant  kingdom  defined  ? 
Why  may  it  not  follow  at  a distance  of  ages? 
We  know  that  we  shall  stand  at  the  latter 
day  upon  the  earth,  and  in  our  flesh  shall  see 
God.  Why  shall  not  the  triumph  be  reserved 
for  that  day  of  glory  ? Are  our  people  now 
fit  to  be  a nation  of  kings?  Or  are  the  best 
of  us,  in  our  present  imperfection,  in  the 
mortal  feebleness  of  our  nature,  fit  to  share  in 
a triumph  in  which  angels  are  to  minister? 
fit  dwellers  of  a city  from  which  error  and 
evil  are  to  be  excluded  ; in  which  there  is  to 
be  no  tear,  no  human  suffering,  no  remem- 
bered bitterness;  ‘a  city  whose  builder  and 
maker  is  God  within  whose  w'alls  live  holi- 
ness, power,  sublime  intelligence,  and  imper- 
ishable virtue  ; on  whose  throne  sits  in  light 
the  Omnipotent !” 

Sensations  to  which  I dared  not  give  utter- 
ance oppressed  me : my  crime,  my  fate,  rose 
up  before  the  mental  eye.  I had  no  answer 
to  this  admirable  woman.  Her  pure  and 
fervid  zeal ; her  love,  and  holiness  of  heart, 
touched  every  chord  in  mine.  But  the  veil 
was  dark  upon  my  mind.  Let  no  man  blame 
the  stubbornness  of  the  Jew,  till  he  has 
weighed  the  influence  of  feeling's  born  with 
a people,  strengthened  by  their  history,  rein- 
forced by  miracle,  and  authenticated  by  the ! 
words  of  inspiration.  That  Judaism  was' 
purity  itself  to  the  worship  and  morals  of  the  1 


pagan  world ; that  it  was  the  continued  ob- 
j ject  of  a particular  Providence ; that  it  alone 
! possessed  the  revelations  of  God  ; were  facta 
that  defied  doubt.  And  that  those  high  dis- 
tinctions should  be  made  void,  and  the  slavish 
and  profligate  mind  of  paganism  be  admitted 
into  our  privileges ; still  more,  that  it  should 
be  admitted,  to  the  exclusion  of  the  chosen 
line,  seemed  to  me  a conclusion  that  no  rea- 
soning could  substantiate,  a fantastic  and 
airy  fiction,  to  which  no  reasoning  could  be 
applied. 

The  moon  ascended  in  calm  glory;  and 
her  orb,  slightly  tinged  by  the  many-colored 
; clouds  that  lay  upon  the  horizon,  threw  a 
faint  silver  upon  the  precipice.  The  sounds 
below  were  hushed  ; the  moving  figures,  the 
vessel,  the  sea,  the  cliffs,  were  totally  veiled 
in  purple  mist.  We  could  not  have  been 
more  alone  if  we  were  seated  on  a cloud; 
and  the  beauty,  the  exalted  gesture,  and  the 
glowing  wisdom  of  the  being  before  me,  were 
like  those  that  we  conceive  of  spirits  delega- 
ted to  lead  the  disembodied  mind  upwards 
from  world  to  world. 

A sea  bird,  winging  its  way  above  our 
heads,  broke  the  reverie : I reminded  my 
teacher  that  it  grew  late,  and  our  absence 
might  produce  anxiety. 

“ Salathiel,”  said  she,  with  mingled  fervor 
and  softness, — “ you  know  I love  you  ; never 
was  heart  more  fondly  bound  to  another  than 
mine  is  to  you.  1 am  grateful  for  your  per- 
mission to  receive  Constantins  into  our  tribe. 
But  one  obligation,  infinitely  dearer,  you  can 
confer  on  me, — read  this  scroll.”  She  drew 
from  her  bosom  a letter,  written  to  his  church 
by  one  of  the  Christian  leaders  in  Asia.  “ I 
desire  not  to  offend  your  convictions,  nor"  to 
hasten  you  into  a rash  adoption  of  those  of 
others.  But  in  this  scroll  you  will  find  phi- 
losophy without  its  pride,  and  knowledge 
without  its  guile;  you  will  find  more,  the 
disclosure  of  those  mysteries  which  have  so 
long  perplexed  our  people:  read;  and  may 
He  who  can  bring  wisdom  out  of  the  lips  of 
babes,  and  make  the  wisdom  of  the  wise  fool- 
ishness, shed  his  light  upon  the  generous 
heart  of  my  husband  !” 

At  another  time  I might  have  started  in 
horror  from  this  avowal  of  her  faith.  But  the 
scene,  the  circumstances,  an  unaccountable 
internal  impression — a voice  of  the  soul,  pro- 
hibited me.  I took  her  trend  ling  hand,  and, 
without  a word,  led  her  down  to  our  dwelling. 

• 


CHAPTER  XV. 

No  tidings  sooner  make  themselves  known 
than  those  of  the  heart.  We  found  our  daugh- 
ters waiting  anxiously  at  the  entrance  of  the 
cave,  which  had  been  fitted  up  for  our  tem- 


42 


SalathieL 


porary  shelter.  Before  a word  could  be  ex- 
changed, a glance  from  Miriam  told  the  suc- 
cess of  her  mission  ; and  sorrow  was  turned 
into  delight.  Esther  danced  around  me,  and 
was  eloquent  in  her  gratitude.  Salome  shed 
silent  tears ; and  when  I attempted  to  wipe 
them  away,  fell  fainting  into  my  arms.  We 
spent  a part  of  the  night  in  the  open  air : the 
last  wine  and  fruits  of  our  store  were  brought 
out : the  Cypriot  exiles  came  down  from  their 
rocks : the  crew  of  the  galley,  already  on 
board,  danced,  sang,  and  drank  to  the  success 
of  the  voyage ; and  it  was  not  till  the  moon, 
our  only  lamp,  was  about  to  be  extinguished 
in  the  waters,  that  we  thought  of  closing  our 
final  night  on  the  Syrian  shore. 

We  travelled  along  the  coast  as  far  as 
Bcrytus;  then  turning  to  the  eastward,  crossed 
the  Libanus,  and  the  mountain  country  that 
branches  into  Upper  Galilee.  Our  coming 
had  been  long  announced ; and  we  found 
Eleazar,  Jubal,  and  our  chief  kinsmen,  wait- 
ing at  one  of  the  passes  to  lead  us  home  in 
triumph.  The  joy  of  our  tribe  was  honest,  if 
it  was  tumultuous;  and  many  a shout  dis- 
turbed the  solitude  as  we  moved  along. 

My  impatience  increased,  when  we  reach- 
ed the  well  known  hills  that  sheltered  what 
was  once  my  home.  Yet  1 remembered  too 
keenly  the  shock  of  seeing  its  desolation  not 
to  dread  the  first  sight  of  the  spot ; and  rode 
away  from  the  group  at  full  speed,  that  my 
nervousness  might  have  time  to  subside  be- 
fore their  arrival.  But  at  the  foot  of  the  last 
ascent  I drew  the  reign.  Every  tree,  every 
bush,  almost  every  stone,  had  been  familiar 
to  me  in  my  wanderings ; and  were  now  pain- 
ful memorials  of  the  long  malady  of  my  mind. 

Eleazar,  who  watched  me  during  the  latter 
part  of  the  journey,  with  something  of  a con- 
sciousness of  my  thoughts,  put  spurs  to  his 
horse,  and  found  me  standing,  pale  and  pal- 
pitating. “Come,”  said  he,  “we  must  not 
alarm  Miriam  by  thinking  too  much  of  the 
past;  let  us  try  if  the  top  of  the  hill  will  not 
give  us  a better  prospect  than  the  bottom.” 

I shrank  from  the  attempt.  “ No !”  said  I, 
“ the  horror  that  the  prospect  once  gave  me 
must  not  be  renewed.  Let  us  change  the 
route,  no  matter  how  far  round ; the  sight  of 
that  ruin  would  distract  me  to  the  last  hour 
of  my  life.” 

He  only  smiled  in  reply ; and  catching  my 
bridle  galloped  forward.  A few  seconds 
placed  us  on  the  summit  of  a hill.  Could  I 
belief  my  eyes ! All  below  was  as  if  rapine 
never  had  been  there.  The  gardens,  the 
cattle,  the  dwellings,  lay  a fairy  picture  un- 
der the  eye.  “ This  is  miracle  !”  I exclaim- 
ed. “ No ; or  it  is  but  the  miracle  of  a little 
activity,  and  a great  deal  of  good-will,”  was 
the  answer. 

“ Your  kinsmen  did  this  at  the  time  when 
you  were  slumbering  with  the  wolf  and  bear 


il  in  the  Libanus;  Nature  did  her  part  in  cover- 
I ing  your  fields  and  gardens  ; and  those  sheep 
and  cattle  are  a tribute  of  gratitude  from 
your  brother,  for  the  preservation  of  his  life.” 

Our  troop  now  ascended  the  height.  The 
land  lay  beneath  them  in  the  richness  of  sum- 
mer. They  were  ardent  in  their  expressions 
of  surprise  and  pleasure.  We  rushed  down 
the  defile,  and  I was  once  more  master  of  a 
home. 

Public  events  had  rapidly  ripened  in  my 
l absence.  Popular  wrath  was  stimulated  by 
increased  exaction.  Law  was  more  palpably 
perverted  into  insolence  and  injury.  Order 
was  giving  way  on  all  sides.  The  Roman 
garrisons,  neglected  and  ill  paid,  were  adopt- 
ing the  desperate  habits  of  the  populace;  and 
in  the  general  scorn  of  religion  and  right, 
the  country  was  becoming  a horde  of  robbers. 
The  ultimate  causes  of  this  singular  degene- 
racy might  be  remote,  and  set  in  action  by  a 
vengeance  above  man ; but  the  immediate 
were  plain  to  every  eye. 

The  general  principles  of  Rome,  in  the 
government  of  her  conquests,  were  manly  and 
wise.  When  the  soldier  had  done  his  work; 
and  it  was  done  vigorously,  yet  with  but  little 
violence  beyond  that  which  was  essential  for 
complete  subjugation  ; the  sword  slept  as  an 
instrument  of  evil,  and  awoke  only  as  an  in- 
strument of  justice. 

The  Roman  supremacy  extinguished  the 
innumerable  and  harrassing  mischiefs  of  mi- 
nor hostility.  If  neighbor  kingdoms  quarrell- 
ed, a legion  marched  across  the  border,  and 
brought  the  belligerents  to  sudden  reason; 
dismissed  their  armies  to  their  hearths  and 
altars,  and  sent  the  angry  chiefs  to  reconcile 
their  claims  in  an  Italian  dungeon.  If  a dis- 
puted succession  threatened  to  embroil  the 
general  peace,  the  proconsul  ordered  the  royal 
competitors  to  embark  for  Rome,  and  there 
set'le  the  right  before  the  senate. 

I The  barbaric  invasions,  which  had  periodi- 
cally ravaged  the  Eastern  empires,  even  in 
their  day  of  power,  were  repelled  with  a ter- 
rible view.  The  legions  left  the  desert  cov- 
ered with  the  tribe,  for  the  food  of  the  vul- 
ture ; and  showed  to  Europe  the  haughty 
leaders  of  the  Tartar,  Gothic  and  Arab  my- 
riads in  fetters,  dragging  wains,  digging  in 
mines,  or  sweeping  the  highways. 

If  peace  could  be  an  equivalent  for  free- 
dom, the  equivalent  was  never  so  amply  se- 
cured. The  world  within  this  iron  boundary 
flourished ; the  activity  and  talent  of  man 
were  urged  to  the  highest  pitch  ; the  conquer- 
ed countries  were  turned  from  wastes  and 
forests  into  fertility:  ports  were  dog  upon 
naked  shores;  cities  swelled  from  villages: 
population  spread  over  the  soil  once  pestilen- 
tial and  breeding  only  the  poisonous  weed 
and  the  serpent.  The  sea  was  covered  with 
trade ; the  pirate  and  the  marauder  were  un~ 


Salathiel. 


43 


heard  of,  or  hunted  down.  Commercial  en- 
terprise shot  its  lines  and  communications 
over  the  map  of  the  earth  ; and  regions  were 
then  familiar,  which  even  the  activity  of  the 
revived  ages  of  Europe  had  scarcely  made 
known. 

Those  were  the  wonders  of  great  power 
steadily  directed  to  a great  purpose.  Gene- 
ral coercion  was  the  simple  principle;  and; 
the  only  talisman  of  a Roman  Emperor  was 
the  chain,  but  where  it  was  casually  commut-j 
ed  for  the  sword  : yet  the  universality  of  the 
compression  atoned  for  half  its  evil.  The| 
natural  impulse  of  man  is  to  improvement; 
he  requires  only  security  from  rapine.  The 
Roman  supremacy  raised  round  him  an  im- 
pregnable wall.  It  was  the  true  government 
for  an  era  when  the  habits  of  reason  had  not 
penetrated  the  general  human  mind.  Its 
chief  evil  was  in  its  restraint  of  those  nobler 
and  loftier  aspirations  of  genius  and  the  heart, 
which  from  time  to  time  raise  the  general 
scale  of  mankind.  Nothing  is  more  observa-. 
ble  than  the  decay  of  original  literature,  of 
the  finer  architecture,  and  of  philosophical 
invention,  under  the  empire.  Even  military 
genius,  the  natural  product  of  a system  that 
lived  but  on  military  fame,  disappeared;  the 
brilliant  diversity  of  warlike  talent,  that  shone 
on  the  very  verge  of  the  succession  of  the 
Caesars,  sank,  like  falling  stars,  to  rise  no 
more.  No  captain  was  again  to  display  the 
splendid  conceptions  of  Pompey’s  boundless 
campaigns;  the  lavish  heroism  and  inexhaust- 
ible resource  of  Anthony  ; or  the  mixture  of 
undaunted  personal  enterprise  and  profound 
tactic,  the  statesman-like  thought,  irrestrain- 
able  ambition,  and  high-minded  forgiveness, 
that  made  Caesar  that  very  emblem  of  Rome. 
But  the  Imperial  power  had  the  operation  of 
one  of  those  great  laws  of  nature,  which 
through  partial  evil  sustain  the  earth — a gra- 
vitating principle,  which,  if  it  checked  the 
ascent  of  some  gifted  beings  beyond  the  dull 
level  of  life,  yet  kept  the  infinite  multitude 
of  men  and  things  from  flying  loose  beyond 
all  utility  and  all  control. 

Yet  it  was  only  for  a time.  The  empire 
was  but  the  ripening  of  the  republic,  a richer, 
more  luxuriant,  and  more  transitory  object 
for  the  eye  of  the  world  ; and  the  storm  was 
already  gathering  that  was  to  shake  it  to  the 
ground.  The  corruptions  of  the  palace  first 
opened  the  Imperial  ruin.  They  soon  ex- 
tended through  every  department  of  the  state. 
If  the  habitual  fears  of  the  tyrant,  in  the  midst 
of  a head-long  populace  who  had  so  often  aid- 
ed and  exulted  in  the  slaughter  of  his  prede- 
cessors, could  scarcely  restrain  him  in  Rome; 
what  must  be  the  excesses  of  his  minions, 
where  no  fear  was  felt ! where  complaint  was 
stifled  by  the  dagger ! and  where  the  govern- 
ment was  bought  by  bribes,  to  be  replaced 
only  by  licensed  and  encouraged  rapine  ! 


The  East  was  the  chief  victim.  The  vast 
northern  and  western  provinces  of  the  em- 
pire pressed  too  closely  on  Rome  ; were  too 
poor,  and  were  too  w arlike,  to  be  the  favorite 
objects  of  Italian  rapacity.  There  a new  tax 
raised  an  insurrection  ; the  proconsular  de- 
mand of  a loan  was  answered  by  a flight, 
which  stript  the  land  ; or  by  the  march  of 
some  unheard-of  tribe,  pouring  down  from  the 
desert  to  avenge  their  countrymen.  The 
character  too  of  the  people  influenced  the 
choice  of  their  governors.  Brave  and  expe- 
rienced soldiers,  not  empty  and  vicious  cour- 
tiers, must  command  the  armies  that  were 
thus  liable  to  be  hourly  in  battle,  and  on 
whose  discipline  depended  the  slumbers  of 
every  pillow  in  Italy.  Stern  as  is  the  life 
of  camps,  it  has  its  virtues;  and  men  are 
taught  consideration  for  the  feelings,  rights, 
and  resentments  of  man,  by  a teacher  that 
makes  its  voice  heard  through  the  tumult  of 
battle  and  the  pride  of  victory.  But  all  was 
reversed  in  Asia,  remote,  rich,  habituated  to 
despotism,  divided  in  language,  religion,  and 
blood  ; with  nothing  of  that  fierce,  yet  gene- 
rous, clanship,  which  made  the  Gaul  of  the 
Belgian  marshes  listen  to  the  trumpet  of  the 
Gaul  of  Narbonne,  and  the  German  of  Vistula 
burn  with  the  wrongs  of  the  German  of  the 
Rhine. 

Under  Nero,  Judea  was  devoured  by  Ro- 
man rapine.  She  had  not  even  the  sad  con- 
solation of  owing  her  evils  to  the  rapine  of 
those  nobler  beasts  of  prey  in  human  shape 
that  were  to  be  found  in  the  other  provinces 
— she  was  devoured  by  locusts.  The  pollu- 
ted palace  supplied  her  governors ; a slave 
lifted  into  office  by  a fellow  slave  ; a pamper- 
ed profligate  exhausted  by  the  expenses  of 
the  capital ; a condemned  and  notorious  ex- 
j tortioner,  with  no  other  spot  to  hide  his  head  ; 
were  the  gifts  of  Nero  to  my  country.  Pi- 
late, Felix,  Festus,  Albinus,  Florus,  each 
more  profligate  and  cruel  as  our  catastrophe 
approached,  tore  the  very  bowels  of  the  land. 
Of  the  last  two,  it  was  said  that  Albinus 
i should  have  been  grateful  to  Florus  for  prov- 
ing that  he  was  not  the  basest  of  mankind, 
by  the  evidence  that  a baser  existed  ; that 
he  had  a respect  for  virtue,  by  his  conde- 
scending to  commit  those  robberies  in  pri- 
vate, which  his  successor  committed  in  pub- 
lic; and  that  he  had  human  feeling,  by  his 
abstaining  from  blood  where  he  could  gain 
nothing  by  murder  : while  Florus  disdained 
alike  concealment  and  cause,  and  slaughtered 
for  the  public  pleasure  of  the  sword. 

A number  of  partial  insurrections,  easily 
suppressed,  displayed  the  wrath  of  the  peo- 
ple, and  indulged  the  cruelty  of  the  procura- 
tor. They  indulged  also  his  avarice.  De- 
feat was  followed  by  confiscation  ; and  Florus 
even  boasted  that  he  desired  nothing  more 
prosperous  than  insurrection  in  every  village 


44 


Salathid. 


of  Judea.  He  was  about  to  be  gratified,  before 
he  had  prepared  himself  for  this  luxury. 

A menial  in  my  house  was  detected  with 
letters  from  an  agent  of  the  Roman  governor. 
They  required  details  of  my  habits  and  re- 
sources, which  satisfied  me  that  I was  become 
an  object  of  vengeance.  From  the  time  of 
my  return,  I had  seen  with  bitterness  of  soul 
the  insults  of  my  country.  I had  summoned 
my  friends  to  ascertain  what  might  be  our 
means  of  resistance,  and  found  them  as  will- 
ing and  devoted  as  became  men  : but  our  re- 
sources for  more  than  the  first  burst  of  popu- 
lar wrath,  the  seizure  of  some  petty  Roman 
garrison,  or  the  capture  of  a convoy,  were 
nothing.  The  jealousies  of  the  chief  men  of 
the  tribes,  the  terror  of  Rome,  the  positions 
of  the  Roman  troops  cutting  off  military  com- 
munication between  the  north  and  south  of 
Judea,  made  the  attempt  hopeless;  and  it 
was  abandoned  for  the  time.  Even  those  let- 
ters which  marked  me  for  a victim  made  no 
change  in  the  determination,  that  if  I could 
not  escape  danger  by  individual  means,  no 
public  blood  should  be  laid  to  my  charge. 

For  a few  months  all  was  tranquil;  the 
habits  of  rural  life  were  calculated  to  keep 
depressing  thoughts  at  a distance.  My  wife 
and  daughters  returned  to  their  graceful  pur- 
suits, with  the  added  pleasure  of  novelty, 
after  so  long  a cessation.  I hunted  through 
the  hills  with  Constantius;  or,  traversing 
the  country  which  might  yet  be  the  scene 
of  events,  availed  myself  of  the  knowledge 
of  a master  of  the  whole  science  of  Roman 
war.  At  home,  the  works  of  the  great  poets 
of  the  west,  with  whom  our  guest  had  made 
us  familiar,  varied  the  hours;  but  1 found  a 
still  more  stirring  and  congenial  interest  in 
the  histories  of  Greek  valor,  and  in  the  study 
of  the  mighty  minds  that  made  and  unmade 
empires.  With  the  touching  and  pictur- 
esque narrative  of  Herodotus  in  my  hand,  I 
pantingly  followed  the  adventures  of  the 
most  brilliant  of  nations.  I fought  the  battle 
with  them  against  the  Persian  ; I saw  them 
gathered  in  little  startled  groups  on  the  hills, 
flying  in  their  little  galleys  from  island  to 
island,  the  land  deserted,  the  sea  covered 
with  fugitives,  the  Persian  fleets,  loaded  with 
Asiatic  pomp,  darkening  the  waters  like  a 
thunder-cloud;  and  in  a moment  all  changed. 
The  millions  of  Asia  scattered,  like  dust 
before  the  wind — Greece  lifted  to  the  height 
of  martial  glory,  and  commencing  a career 
of  triumph  still  more  illustrious,  that  triumph 
of  the  mind,  in  which,  through  the  remotest 
vicissitudes  of  earth,  she  was  to  have  no  con- 
queror. With  Arrian  [ pursued  the  cam- 
paigns of  that  extraordinary  man,  whose 
valor,  vanby,  and  fortune,  make  him  one  of 
the  landmarks  of  human  nature.  In  Alex- 
ander, I delighted  in  tracing  the  native  form 


of  the  Greek  through  the  embroidered  robea 
of  royalty  and  triumph.  In  his  romantic  in- 
trepidity and  deliberate  science;  his  alterna- 
tions of  profound  thought  and  fantastic  folly; 
the  passion  for  praise,  and  the  contempt  for 
its  offerers  ; the  rash  temper,  and  the  noble 
magnanimity  ; the  love  for  the  fine  arts,  and 
the  thirst  for  that  perpetual  war  before  which 
they  fly;  the  martial  and  philosophic  scorn 
of  privation,  and  the  feeble  lapses  into  self- 
indulgence;  the  generous  forecast,  which 
peopled  deserts  and  founded  cities,  and  the 
giddy  and  fatal  neglect  which  left  his  diadem 
to  be  fought  for,  and  his  family  to  be  the  prey 
of  rival  rebellions;  I saw  him  the  man  of  the 
republic,  the  Athenian  of  the  day  of  popular 
splendor  and  folly,  with  only  the  difference 
of  the  sceptre. 

To  me,  those  studies  were  like  a new  door 
opened  into  the  boundless  palace  of  human 
nature.  I felt  that  sense  of  novelty,  vigor 
and  fresh  life,  that  the  frame  feels  in  breath- 
ing the  morning  air  over  the  landscape  of  a 
new  country.  It  was  a voyage  upon  an  un- 
known sea,  where  every  headland,  and  dell, 
and  tree  fringing  the  waters,  administers  to 
the  delight  of  curiosity.  In  this  there  was 
nothing  of  the  common  pedantry  of  worn-out 
studies.  My  knowledge  of  life  had  hitherto 
been  limited  by  my  original  destination.  A 
Jew  and  a priest,  there  was  but  one  solemn 
avenue,  through  which  I was  to  see  the 
glimpses  of  the  external  world.  The  vista 
was  now  opened  and  deepened  beyond  all 
limit:  visions  of  conquest,  of  honor  among 
nations,  of  praise  to  the  last  posterity,  cluster- 
ed round  my  head.  There  were  times  when 
in  this  exultation  my  doom  was  forgotten. 
The  momentary  oblivion  may  have  been  per- 
mitted merely  to  blunt  the  edge  of  incura- 
ble misfortune.  Incessant  suffering  would 
have  made  a double  miracle  essential  to  my 
existence.  I was  permitted  at  intervals  to 
recruit  the  strength,  that  was  to  be  tried  till 
the  end  of  time. 

I was  one  day  immersed  in  Polybius,  with 
my  master  in  soldiership  at  my  side,  guiding 
me  by  his  living  comment  through  the  won- 
ders of  the  Punic  campaigns;  when  Elea- 
zar  entered  with  a look  that  implied  his  com- 
ing on  a matter  of  importance.  Constantius 
rose  to  withdraw.  “No,”  said  my  brother, 
“ the  subject  of  my  mission  is  one  that  should 
not  be  concealed  from  the  preserver  of  our 
kindred.  It  may  be  one  of  happiness  to  us 
all.  Salome  is  arrived  at  the  age  and  more 
than  the  age,  when  the  daughters  of  Israel 
marry.  She  must  give  way  to  our  general 
wish,  and  play  the  matron  at  last.”  He 
turned  with  a smile  to  Constantius,  and  asked 
his  assent  to  the  opinion  : he  received  no  an- 
swer. The  young  Greek  had  plunged  more 
deeply  than  ever  into  the  passage  of  the  Alps. 


Salat  hiel. 


45 


“And  who  is  the  suitor'?”  I inquired. 

“ One  worthy  of  her  and  you.  A generous, 
bold,  warm-hearted  kinsman,  in  the  spring 
of  life,  sufficiently  opulent,  for  he  will  proba- 
bly be  my  heir,  prepared  to  honour  you,  and 
I believe  long  and  deeply  attached  to  her.” 

“ Jubal ! There  is  not  a man  in  our  tribe 
to  whom  I would  so  gladly  give  her.  Let 
my  friend  Jubal  come.  Congratulate  me, 
Constantius ; you  shall  now  at  last  see  fes- 
tivity in  our  land,  in  scorn  of  the  Roman. 
You  have  seen  us  in  flight  and  captivity  ; you 
shall  now  be  witness  of  some  of  the  happiness 
that  was  in  Judah  before  we  knew  the  flap- 
ping of  an  Italian  banner ; and  if  fortune 
smile,  shall  be,  when  Rome  is  like  Babylon.” 

Constantius  suddenly  rose  from  his  vol- 
umes, and  thrusting  them  within  the  folds 
of  his  tunic,  was  leaving  the  apartment. 
“ No,”  said  I,  “ you  must  remain ; Miriam 
and  Salome  shall  be  sent  for,  and  in  your  pre- 
sence the  contract  signed.” 

For  the  first  time,  I perceived  the  exces- 
sive pallidness  of  his  countenance ; and  asked, 
whether  I had  not  trespassed  too  much  on  his 
patience  with  my  studies? 

His  only  reply  was — “ Is  there  no  liberty 
of  choice  in  the  marriages  of  Israel  ? Will 
you  decide  without  consulting  her  whom  this 
contract  is  to  render  happy  or  miserable 
while  she  lives?”  He  rushed  from  the 
room. 

Miriam  came — but  alone.  Her  daughter 
had  wandered  out  into  one  of  our  many  gar- 
dens. She  received  Eleazar  with  sisterly 
fondness ; but  her  features  wore  the  air  of 
constraint.  She  heard  the  mission;  but, 
“ she  had  no  opinion  to  give  in  the  absence 
of  Salome.  She  knew  too  well  the  happiness 
of  having  chosen  for  herself,  to  wish  to  force 
the  consent  of  her  child.  Let  Salome  be 
consulted.” 

The  flourish  of  music,  and  the  trampling 
of  horses,  broke  up  our  reluctant  conference. 
Jubal  was  already  come,  with  a crowd  of  his 
friends.  We  hastened  to  receive  him  at  the 
porch ; and  he  bounded  into  the  court  on  his 
richly  caparisoned  barb,  at  the  head  of  a troop 
in  festal  habiliments. 

The  men  of  Israel  loved  pomp  of  dress,  and 
handsome  steeds.  The  crowd  before  me 
might  have  made  a body-guard  of  a Persian 
king.  Jubal  had  long  looked  on  my  daughter 
with  the  admiration  due  to  her  singular  beau- 
ty ; it  was  the  custom  to  wed  within  our 
tribe : he  was  the  favorite  and  the  heir  of 
her  unclq  ; she  had  never  absolutely  banish- 
ed him  from  her  presence  ; and  in  the  buoy- 
ancy of  natural  spirits,  the  boldness  of  a tem- 
perament born  for  a soldier,  and  perhaps  in 
the  allowable  consciousness  of  a showy  form, 
he  had  admitted  none  of  the  perplexities  of  a 
trembling  lover.  Salome  was  at  length  an- 

4 


noanced,  and  the  proposed  husband  was  left 
to  plead  his  own  cause. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

We  received  the  friends  of  our  intended 
son  with  the  accustomed  hospitality;  but  to 
me  the  tumult  of  many  voices,  and  even  the 
sight  of  a crowd,  however  happy,  still  excited 
the  old  disturbance  of  a shaken  system. 

1 left  my  guest  to  the  care  of  Eleazar ; and 
galloped  into  the  fields  to  gather  composure 
from  the  air  of  fruits  and  flowers.  A home- 
ward glance  show'ed  me,  to  my  surprise,  the 
whole  troop  mounted ; and  in  another  mo- 
ment at  speed  across  the  hills.  I hastened 
back.  Miriam  met  me.  My  kinsmen  had 
openly  disclaimed  my  alliance. 

Indignant  and  disappointed,  I prepared  to 
follow,  and  demand  the  cause  of  this  in- 
sult. As  I passed  under  a vine  that  shadow- 
ed one  of  the  pavilions,  my  daughter’s  voice 
arrested  me.  She  was  talking  with  Constan- 
tiusa  and  in  tears.  Scorning  mere  curiosity, 
I yet  was  anxious  for  sincere  explanation. 
I felt  that  if  Salome  had  a wish  which  she 
feared  to  divulge  to  her  father,  this  was  my 
only  hope  of  obtaining  the  knowledge.  The 
voices  were  feeble,  and  I could  for  a while 
catch  but  a broken  sentence. 

“ I owed  it  to  him,”  said  she,  “ not  to  de- 
ceive his  partiality.  He  offered  all  that  could 
have  done  a Jewish  maiden  honor  to  receive ; 
— his  heart,  hand,  and  fortune.” 

“ And  you  rejected  them  all  ?”  said  Con- 
stantius. “ Have  you  no  regrets  for  the  lover 
— no  fears  for  the  father?” 

“ For  Jubal  I had  too  high  an  esteem,  to 
give  him  a promise  which  I could  not  keep. 
I knew  his  generous  nature.  I told  him  at 
once,  that  there  was  an  invincible  obstacle  1” 

“I  should  like  incomparably  to  know  what 
that  obstacle  could  be  ?”  said  Constantius. 

The  natural  playfulness  of  this  sweet  and 
light-hearted  girl  had  already  superseded  the 
tear ; and  she  replied — “ That  a philosopher 
ought  to  know  all  things  without  ques- 
tioning.” 

“ But  there  is  much  in  the  world  that  defies 
philosophy,  my  fair  Salome;  and  of  all  its  pro- 
blems, the  most  perplexing  is  the  mind  of 
woman  ! — of  young,  lovely,  dangerous  wo- 
man ?” 

“ Now,  Constantius,  you  abandon  the  phi- 
losopher, and  talk  the  language  of  the  poet.” 

“ Yet  wilhout  the  poet’s  imagination.  No; 

I need  picture  no  beauty  from  the  clouds — 
no  nymph  from  the  fountains — no  loveliness 
that  haunts  the  trees,  and  breathes  more  than 
mortal  melody  on  the  ear.  Salome ! my 
muse  is  before  me.” 

“ You  are  a Greek,”  said  she,  after  a slight 


Salathiel. 


interval ; “ and  the  Greeks  are  privileged  to 
talk,  and  to  deceive.” 

“ Salome ! I am  a Greek  no  longer.  What 
I shall  yet  be,  may  depend  upon  the  fairest 
artist  that  ever  fashioned  the  human  mind. 
But  mine  are  not  the  words  of  inexperience. 
I am  on  this  day  five-and-twenty  years  old. 
My  life  has  led  me  into  all  that  is  various  in 
the  intercourse  of  earth.  I have  seen  woman 
in  her  beauty,  in  her  talent,  in  her  art,  in  her 
accomplishment,  from  the  cottage  to  the 
throne ; but  I never  felt  her  real  power.” 

“ Which  am  I to  believe — the  possible  or 
the  impossible!  A soldier!  a noble!  a 
Greek ! and  of  all  Greeks,  one  of  Cyprus ! 
not  the  breaker  of  a thousand  hearts,  the 
worshipper  at  a thousand  altars,  the  offerer  of 
your  eloquence  at  every  shrine  where  your 
own  lovely  countrywomen  stood  on  the  pe- 
destal ! — 1 too  have  seen  the  world.” 

“ Heaven  forbid,  that  you  may  ever  see  it, 
but  what  it  would  be  made  by  such  as  you ; — 
a place  of  gentleness  and  harmony — a place 
of  fondness  and  innocence — a paradise !” 

“ Now,  you  are  farther  from  the  philoso- 
pher than  ever  : but  I must  listen  no  more  : 
the  sun  is  taking  its  leave  of  us,  and  blushing 
its  last  through  the  vines  for  all  the  fine  ro- 
mance that  it  has  heard  from  Constantius. 
Farewell,  philosophy.” 

“Then  farewell,  philosophy,”  said  Con- 
stantius ; and  caught  her  hand,  as  she  was 
lightly  moving  from  the  pavilion.  He  led 
her  towards  the  casement.  “ Then  farewell 
philosophy,  my  sweet ; and  welcome  truth, 
virtue,  and  nature.  I loved  you  in  your  cap- 
tivity ; I loved  you  in  your  freedom ; on  the 
sea,  on  the  shore,  in  the  desert,  in  your  home, 
I loved  you.  In  life  I will  love  you,  in  death 
we  shall  not  be  divided.  This  is  not  the 
language  of  mere  admiration,  the  rapture  of 
a fancy  dazzled  by  the  bright  eyes  of  my  Sa- 
lome. It  is  the  language  of  reason,  of  sa- 
cred truth,  of  honor  bound  by  higher  than 
human  bonds;  of  fondness,  that  even  the 
tomb  will  render  only  more  ardent  and  sub- 
lime. Here,  in  the  sight  of  Heaven,  I pledge 
an  immortal  to  an  immortal.” 

Astonishment  and  grief  alone  prevented  my 
exclaiming  aloud  against  this  attempt  to 
master  the  affections  of  my  child.  The  mar- 
riage of  the  Israelite  with  the  stranger  was 
prohibited  by  our  law  ; and  still  more  severe- 
ly prohibited  by  the  later  customs  and  ordi- 
nances of  our  teachers.  But  marriage  with 
a fugitive,  a deceiver,  a son  of  the  idolater, 
whose  proselytism  had  never  been  avowed, 
and  whose  skill  in  the  ways  of  the  world 
might  be  at  this  hour  undermining  the  peace 
or  the  faith  of  my  whole  family;  the  idea 
was  tenfold  profanation ! I checked  myself 
only  to  have  complete  evidence. 

“ But,”  said  my  daughter,  in  a voice  min- 


gled with  many  a sigh,  “ if  this  should  be- 
come known  to  my  father,  and  known  it 
must  be — how  can  we  hope  for  his  consent  ? 
Now,  Constantius,  you  will  have  to  learn 
what  it  is  to  deal  with  our  nation.  We  have 
prejudices,  lofty,  though  blind  indissoluble, 

though  fantastic ; my  father’s  consent 

is  beyond  all  hope.” 

“ He  is  honorable — be  has  human  feeling 
— he  loves  you.” 

“ Fondly,  I believe ; and  I must  rot  thus 
return  his  love:  no,  though  my  happiness 
were  to  be  the  forfeit,  I must  not  pain  his 
heart  by  the  disobedience  of  his  child.” 

“ But,  Salome,  my  sweet  Salome ; are  ob- 
stinacy and  prejudice  to  be  obeyed  against 
the  understanding  and  the  heart!  I should 
be  the  last  man  on  earth  to  counsel  disobe- 
dience; I venerate  the  tie  of  parent  and 
child.  But  can  a father  counsel  his  child  to 
a crime ; and  would  it  not  be  one  to  give 
your  faith  to  this  Jubal,  if  you  could  not  love 
him !” 

“ I have  decided  that  already.  Never  will 
I wed  Jubal.” 

“Yet,  what  is  it  that  you  would  disobey ! 
a cruel  and  fantastic  scruple  of  your  teachers, 
the  perverters  of  your  law.  Must  we  sacri- 
fice reason  to  prejudice — truth  to  caprice — 
the  law  of  nature  and  of  Heaven  to  the 
forgeries  and  follies  of  the  Scribes ! Mine 
you  are,  and  mine  you  shall  be,  my  wife  by 
a law  more  sacred,  more  powerful,  and  more 
pure.  The  time  of  bondage  is  past.  A new 
law,  a new  hope,  have  come  to  break  the 
chains  of  the  Jew,  and  enlighten  the  darkness 
of  the  Gentile.  You  have  heard  that  law; 
your  generous  heart  and  unclouded  under- 
standing have  received  it ; and  now,  by  that 
common  hope,  my  beloved,  we  are  one : 
though  seas  and  mountains  should  separate 
us — though  the  malice  of  fortune,  though  the 
tyranny  of  man,  should  forbid  our  union ; 
still,  in  flight,  in  the  dungeon,  in  the  last 
hour  of  a troubled  existence,  we  are  one. 
Now,  Salome,  I will  go ; but  go  to  seek  your 
father.” 

My  indignation  rose  to  its  height.  I had 
heard  my  child  taught  to  rebel ; and  yet  could 
check  my  wrath.  I had  heard  myself  pro- 
nounced the  slave  of  prejudice;  and  yet  kept 
down  my  burning  passion.  But  the  open 
declaration  that  our  holy  law  was  to  be  abol- 
ished— nay,  to  my  child  was  a law  no  more 
— let  loose  the  whole  storm  of  my  soul.  I 
rushed  from  my  concealment;  Salome  ut- 
tered a scream,  and  sank  senseless  upon  the 
ground.  Constantius  raised  her  up,  and  bqre 
her  to  a vase,  from  which  he  sprinkled  water 
upon  her  forehead.  “ Leave  her,”  I ex- 
claimed ; “ better  for  her  to  remain  in  that 
insensibility,  better  be  dead,  than  an  apostate. 
Villian,  be  gone;  it  is  only  in  scorn,  that  a 


Salalhiel. 


47 


father’s  vengeance  suffers  you  to  live.  Fly 
from  this  house,  from  this  country,  before 
justice  compels  me  to  deliver  you  up  to  pun- 
ishment. Go,  traitor,  and  let  me  never  see 
you  more.”  I tore  the  fainting  girl  from  his 
arms.  He  made  no  resistance — no  reply. 
Salome  recovered  with  a gush  of  tears,  and 
feebly  pronounced  his  name.  “ I am  with 
you  still,  my  love,”  he  pronounced  in  an  un- 
altered tone.  She  looked  up,  and  as  if  she 
had  then  first  seen  me,  sprang  forward  with 
a cry  of  terror:  “Go,”  said  1,  “go  to  your| 
chamber,  weak  girl,  and  on  your  knees  atone 
for  your  disobedience — for  (do  I live  to  say  it  1) ; 
your  abandonment  of  the  faith  of  your  fathers. ; 
But  no,  it  is  impossible;  you  cannot  have! 
been  so  guilty  : this  Greek — this  foreign 
bringer-in  of  fables — this  smooth  intruder  on 
the  peace  of  families,  cannot  have  so  tri- 
umphed over  your  understanding.” 

“ I have  been  rash,  sir,”  said  Constantius, 
loftily;  “I  may  have  been  unwise  too  in  my 
language  ; but  I have  been  no  deceiver.  Not 
for  the  wealth  of  kings — not  even  for  the 
more  precious  treasure  of  the  heart  I love — 
would  Constantius  sully  his  lips  with  a false-! 
hood.”  . I 

“ Begone,”  cried  I ; “1  am  insulted  by 
your  presence:  the  sight  of  the  ungrateful 
sickens  me.  Go,  and  pervert  others — hypo- 
crite ; or  rather,  take  my  contemptuous  for- 
giveness, and  repent,  in  sackcloth  and  ashes, 
the  basest  crime  of  the  basest  mind.  Come, 1 
daughter,  and  leave  the  baffled  idolater  to 
think  of  his  crime.”  I was  leading  her  away 
— she  struggled,  and  I cast  her  from  me. 
Constantius,  with  his  cheek  burning  and  his 
eye  flashing,  approached  her.  My  taunts  had 
at  length  roused  him. 

“Now,  Salome,”  said  he,  haughtily  glanc- 
ing on  me,  “ injured  as  I am,  I disclaim  all 
idle  deference  for  an  authority  used  only  to 
give  pain.  You  are  my  betrothed  ; you  shall 
be  my  bride.  Let  us  go  forth  and  try  our 
chance  together  through  the  world.” 

She  was  silent,  and  wept  only  more  vio- 
lently. But  with  one  hand  covering  her  face, 
she  repelled  him  with  the  other. 

“Then  you  will  be  the  wife  of  Jubal!” 
said  he. 

“Never!”  she  firmly  pronounced.  “So 
help  me  heaven,  never !” 

“Retire,  girl,”  I exclaimed,  “and  weep 
tears  of  blood  for  your  rebellion.  Go,  stranger 
— ingrate — seducer — and  never  darken  my 
threshold  more.  Aye,  now  I see  the  cause 
of  my  brave  kinsman’s  departure.  He  was 
circumvented.  A wilier  tongue  was  here 
before  him.  He  disdained  to  reveal  the 
daughter’s  folly  to  the  insulted  father.  But 
this  shall  not  avail  either  of  you.  He  shall 
return.” 

Salome  cast  up  an  imploring  glance,  and ! 


sank  upon  her  knees  before  me.  Constantius 
advanced  to  her;  but  I bounded  between 
them — my  dagger  was  drawn.  “ Touch  her, 
and  you  die.” 

He  smiled  scornfully,  and  turning  back  the 
blade,  raised  her. 

“ Give  that  wretched  child  up  to  me  this 
moment,”  I exclaimed  in  fury;  “or  may  the 
bitterness  of  a father’s  curse  be  on  your 
head !”  He  staggered  back ; then  stooping 
his  lips  upon  her  forehead,  gave  her  to  me  and 
strode  from  the  pavilion. 

I flew  to  the  house  of  Eleazar.  I found 
him  anxious  and  agitated.  Calm  as  his  usual 
manner  was,  the  late  transaction  had  left  its 
traces  on  his  manner  and  his  countenance. 
Juhal  was  in  the  apartment,  which  he  tra- 
versed backwards  and  forwards  in  high  in- 
dignation. He  made  no  return  to  my  salute, 
but  by  stopping  short,  and  gazing  full  on  me 
with  a look  of  mingled  anger  and  surprise. 

“Jubal,”  said  I,  “kinsman,  we  must  be 
friends:”  I held  out  my  hand,  which  he  took 
with  no  fervent  pressure.  “ I am  here  only 
to  explain  this  idle  offence.” 

“It  requires  no  explanation,”  interrupted 
Jubal,  sternly.  “ I,  and  I alone,  am  to  blame, 
if  there  be  any  one  to  blame  in  the  matter. 
The  offer  may  have  been  precipitate,  or  un- 
welcome, or  unpardonable,  from  one  still  de- 
pendent, still  without  rank  in  the  tribes:  it 
may  have  been  fit  that  I should  be  haughtily 
rejected  by  the  family  of  the  descendant  of 
Aaron;  but,”  said  he,  pressing  his  strong 
hand  upon  his  throat,  as  if  to  keep  down  a 
burst  of  passion,  “ the  subject  is  at  an  end  ; 
now  and  forever  at  an  end.”  He  recom- 
menced his  striding  through  the  chamber. 

“ Let  us  hear  all,  my  friend,”  said  I : “ I 
know  that  Salome  thinks  highly  of  your  spirit, 
and  your  heart.  Was  there  any  palliation 
offered  1 Did  she  disclose  any  secret  reason 
for  a conduct  so  opposite  to  her  natural  gen- 
tleness, to  her  natural  regard  for  you,  and 
which  she  must  feel  so  offensive  to  me! 
But,  insult  from  my  family,  impossible  !” 

“ Hear  then.  I had  not  alighted  from  my 
horse,  when  I saw  displeasure  written  in  the 
face  of  every  female  in  your  household. 
From  the  very  handmaids  up  to  their  mis- 
tress, they  had,  with  the  instinct  of  woman, 
discovered  my  object;  and,  with  the  usual 
deliberation  of  the  sex,  had  made  up  their 
minds  without  hearing  a syllable.  Your  wife 
received  me,  it  is  true,  with  the  grace  and 
courteousness  that  belongs  to  her  above  wo- 
men; but  she  was  visibly  cold.-  Esther  abso- 
lutely shrank  from  me,  and  scorned  to  return 
a word.  Salome  fled.  As  for  the  attendants, 
they  frowned  and  muttered  upon  me  in  all 
directions,  with  the  most  candid  wrath  possi- 
ble. In  short,  I could  not  have  fared  worse 
had  I been  a Roman,  come  to  take  posses- 


48 


Salat  hiel. 


sion  ; or  an  Arab,  riding. up  to  rifle  every  soul 
in  the  house.” 

“ Ominous  enough  !”  said  Eleazar,  with 
his  grave  smile.  “ The  opinions  of  the  sex 
are  irresistible.  With  half  my  knowledge 
of  them,  Jubal,  you  would  have  turned  your 
horse’s  head  homewards  at  once ; and  given 
up  ydhr  hopes  of  a bride,  at  least  till  the  next 
day,  or  the  next  hour,  or  whatever  may  be 
the  usual  time  for  the  sex’s  change  of  mind. 
Cheer  up,  kinsman;  we  will  caparison  our- 
selves in  another  dress,  let  time  do  its  work, 
ride  over  to  Salathiel’s  mansion  to-morrow, 
and  find  a smile  for  every  frown  of  to-day.” 

“ But  you  saw  Salome!”  said  I.  “I  am 
impatient  to  hear  how  she  could  have  ven- 
tured to  offend.  Could  she  dare  to  refuse  my 
brother’s  request  without  a reason !” 

“ No  ; her  conduct  was  altogether  without 
disguise.  She  first  tried  to  laugh  me  out  of 
my  purpose,  then  argued,  then  wept;  and, 
finally,  told  me  that  our  alliance  was  impossi- 
ble.” 

“ Rash  girl ; but  she  has  been  led  into  this 
folly  by  others  : yet  the  chief  folly  was  my 
own.  Aye ; my  eyes  were  dim,  where  a 
mole  would  have  seen.  In  my  feeble  negli- 
gence, in  my  contemptuous  disregard  for  the 
common  prudence  of  mankind,  I suffered  an 
alien,  a subtle,  showy,  plausible  villain  to  re- 
main under  my  roof,  till  he  has,  by  what  arts 
I know  not,  wiled  away  the  duty  and  the  un- 
derstanding— nay,  I tremble  to  pronounce 
the  word,  the  religion  of  my  child.”  I smote 
my  breast  in  sorrow  and  humiliation. 

Jubal  burst  from  the  apartment,  and  re- 
turned with  a lance  in  a hand  quivering  with 
wrath.  “ Now,  all  is  cleared,”  cried  he ; 
“ the  true  cause  was  the  magic,  the  cunning 
superstition  of  that  idolater.  I know  the  arts  of 
paganism  to  bewitch  the  senses  of  woman ; the 
incantations,  the  perfumes,  the  midnight  fires, 
and  images,  and  songs.  But  let  him  come 
within  the  throw  of  this  javelin,  and  then  try 
whether  all  his  magic  can  shield  him.” 

Eleazar  grasped  his  robe,  as  he  was  again 
rushing  out.  “ Stop,  madman.  Is  it  with 
hands  dipped  in  blood  that  you  are  to  solicit 
the  heart  of  Salome  1 Give  me  that  horrid 
weapon  ; and  you,  Salathiel,  curb  your  wild 
spirit,  and  listen  to  a brother  who  can  have 
no  interest  but  in  the  happiness  of  both  and 
all.  If  Salome,  whom  I loved  an  infant  on 
the  knee,  and  love  to  this  moment,  the  most 
ingenuous  and  happy-hearted  being  on  earth, 
has  been  betrayed  into  a fondness  for  this 
stranger,  how  have  we  the  right  to  force  her 
inclinations  ? But  I know  the  depth  of  un- 
derstanding that  lies  under  her  playfulness; 
can  she  have  been  deceived,  and  least  of  all 
by  those  idle  arts?  Impossible  ! — If  she  have 
sacrificed  her  obedience  to  the  noble  form 
and  high  accomplishments  of  the  Greek,  we 


! can  only  lament  her  exposure  to  a captivation 
made  to  subdue  the  heart  of  woman  since  the 
world  began.” 

I “Jubal,”  interrupted  I,  “ give  me  that  man- 
ly and  honest  hand  : Eleazar’s  wisdom  is 
too  calm  to  understand  a father  or  a lover. 
You  shall  return  with  me  : you  shall  be  my 
son  ; Salathiel  has  no  other.  This  foolish  girl 
will  be  sorry  for  her  follies,  and  rejoice  to  re- 
ceive you.  The  Greek  is  driven  from  my 
house.  And  let  me  see  who  there  will  hence- 
forth disobey.”  The  lover’s  face  brightened 
I with  joy. 

“ Well,  make  your  experiment,”  said  Elea- 
zar, rising.  “ So  end  all  councils  of  war, 
in  more  confusion  than  they  began.  But,  if 
I had  a wife  and  daughters ” 

“ Of  course,  you  would  manage  them  to 
perfection.  So  say  all  who  have  never  had 
either.” 

Eleazar’s  cheek  coloured  slightly : but  with 
his  recovering  smile  of  benevolence  he  fol- 
lowed us  to  the  porch,  and  wished  us  success 
in  our  expedition. 

We  found  the  household  tranquilized  again. 
Miriam  received  me  with  one  of  those  ra- 
diant smiles,  that  are  a husband’s  best  wel- 
come heme.  She  had  succeeded  in  calming 
the  minds  of  her  daughters,  and,  a much  more 
difficult  task,  in  suppressing  the  wrath  of  the 
numerous  female  domestics,  who  had,  as 
usual,  constructed  out  of  the  graces  of  the 
Greek  and  the  beauty  of  Salome,  a little  ro- 
mance of  their  own.  In  the  whole  course  of 
my  life  I never  met  a female,  from  the  flat- 
nosed and  ebony-colored  monster  of  the  trop- 
ics, to  the  snow-white  and  sublime  divinity  of 
a Greek  isle,  without  a touch  of  romance;  re- 
pulsiveness could  not  conceal  it,  age  could 
not  extinguish  it,  vicissitudes  could  not 
change  it.  I have  found  it  in  all  times  and 
places;  like  a spring  of  fresh  waters  starting 
up  even  from  the  flint ; cheering  the  cheer- 
less, softening  the  insensible,  renovating  the 
withered  ; a secret  whisper  in  every  woman 
alive,  that,  to  the  last,  passion  might  flutter 
.its  rosy  pinions  round  her  brow. 

| The  strong  prejudices  of  our  nation  gave 
way  before  female  fondness  for  love  adven- 
ture ; rebellion  was  but  hushed ; and  I was 
warned  by  many  a look,  of  the  unwelcome 
suitor  whom  l brought  among  them.  But 
from  Salome  there  was  no  remonstrance.  I 
should  have  listened  to  none.  The  conscious- 
ness of  my  own  want  of  judgment  in  suffer- 
| ing  a man  so  calculated  to  attract  the  eye  of 
innocent  youth,  to  become  an  inmate  in  my 
house ; the  vexation  which  I felt  at  the  dis- 
missal of  my  brother’s  heir;  and,  last  and 
keenest  pang,  the  inroad  made  in  the  faith  of 
i a daughter  of  Israel,  combined  to  exasperate 
me  beyond  the  bounds  of  patience.  I loved 
I my  child  with  the  strongest  affection  of  a heart 


Salathiel. 


49 


rocked  by  all  the  tides  of  passion  : but  I could 
bear  to  look  upon  the  pale  beauty  of  her  face, 
and  hear  her  deep  sighs — nay,  in  the  wrath 
of  the  hour,  could  have  seen  her  borne  to  the 
grave — rather  than  permit  the  command  to 
be  disputed,  by  which  she  was  to  wed  in  our 
tribe. 

To  shorten  a period  of  which  I felt  the  full 
bitterness,  the  marriage  was  hurried  on. 
Never  was  the  ceremony  anticipated  with 
less  joy : we  were  all  unhappy.  Eleazar  re- 
monstrated, but  in  vain.  Jubal  retracted,  but 
I compelled  him  to  adhere  to  his  proposal. 
Miriam  was  closeted  perpetually  with  the 
betrothed  ; and  of  the  whole  household  Esther 
alone  walked  or  talked  with  me,  and  it  was 
then  only  to  burst  out  into  descriptions  of 
her  sister’s  misery,  or  to  pursue  me  through 
the  endless  mazes  of  argument  on  the  hard- 
ships of  being  forced  to  be  happy. 

The  marriage  preparation  proceeded.  The 
piece  of  silver  was  given,  the  contracts  were 
signed.  The  presents  of  both  families  were 
made.  The  portion  was  agreed  upon.  It 
was  not  customary  to  require  the  appearance 
of  the  bride  until  the  celebration  itself ; and 
Salome  was  invisible  during  those  days  of 
activity,  in  which,  however,  I took  the  chief 
interest,  for  nothing  could  be  farther  from 
zeal  than  the  conduct  of  the  other  agents, 
Jubal  alone  excepted.  He  had  recovered  the 
easily-recovered  confidence  of  youth,  and 
perhaps  prided  himself  on  the  triumph  over  a 
rival  so  formidable.  Two  or  three  petitions 
for  an  interview  came  to  me  from  my 
daughter.  But  l knew  their  purport,  and 
steadily  determined  not  to  hazard  the  tempta- 
tion of  her  tears. 

The  day  came,  and  with  it  the  guests;  our 
dwelling  was  full  of  banqueting.  The  even- 
ing came,  when  the  ceremony  was  to  be  per- 
formed, and  the  bride  led  home  to  her  hus- 
band’s house  in  the  usual  triumph.  One  of 
our  customs  was,  that  a procession  of  the 
bridegroom’s  younger  friends,  male  and  fe- 
male, should  be  formed  outside  the  house  to 
wait  for  the  coming  forth  of  the  married  pair. 
The  ceremony  was  borrowed  by  other  na- 
tions; but  in  our  bright  climate  and  cloud- 
less nights,  the  profusion  of  lamps  and  torches, 
the  burning  perfumes,  glittering  dresses,  and 
fantastic  joy  of  the  dancing  and  singing  crowd, 
had  unequalled  liveliness  and  beauty.  I re- 
mained at  my  casement,  gazing  on  the  bril- 
liant escort,  that,  as  it  gathered  and  arranged 
itself  along  the  gardens,  looked  like  a flight 
of  glow-worms.  But  no  marriage  summons 
came.  I grew  impatient.  My  only  answer 
was  the  sight  of  Jubal  rushing  from  the  house, 
and  an  outcry  among  the  women.  Salome 
was  not  to  be  found.  She  had  been  left  by 
herself  for  a few  hours,  as  was  the  custom,  to 
arrange  her  thoughts  for  a ceremony  which 


! we  considered  religious  in  the  highest  de- 
gree. On  the  bridegroom’s  arrival  she  dis- 
appeared ! 

The  blow  struck  me  deep.  Had  I driven 
her  into  the  arms  of  the  Greek  by  my  sever- 
ity 1 Had  I driven  her  out  of  her  senses  1 or 
out  of  life  1 Conjecture  on  conjecture  stung 
me.  I reprobated  my  own  cruelty,  refused 
consolation,  and  spent  the  night  in  alternate 
self-upbraidings  and  prayers  for  my  unhappy 
child. 

Search  was  indefatigably  made.  The  jeal- 
ousy of  Jubal,  the  manly  anxiety  of  Eleazar, 
the  hurt  feelings  of  our  tribe,  insulted  by  the 
possibility  that  their  chieftain’s  heir  should 
have  been  scorned,  and  that  the  triumph 
should  be  to  an  alien,  were  embarked  in  the 
pursuit.  But  search  was  hopeless;  and  after 
days  and  nights  of  weariness,  I returned  to 
my  home,  there  to  be  met  by  sorrowing  faces, 
and  to  feel  that  every  tear  was  forced  by  my 
own  obstinacy.  I shrank  into  solitude.  I 
exclaimed  that  the  vengeance,  the  more  than 
vengeance  of  the  dreadful  day  of  Jerusalem, 
had  struck  its  heaviest  blow  on  me,  in  the  loss 
of  my  child ! 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

I was  in  one  of  those  fits  of  abstraction,  re- 
volving the  misery  in  which  my  beloved 
daughter  might  be,  even  in  that  moment,  if 
indeed  she  were  in  existence,  when  the  door 
of  my  chamber  opened  softly,  and  one  of  my 
domestics  appeared,  making  a signal  of 
silence.  This  was  he  whom  I had  detected 
in  correspondence  with  the  Roman  agent, 
and  forgiven  through  the  entreaties  of  Mi- 
riam. The  man  had  since  shown  remarkable 
interest  in  the  recovery  of  my  daughter,  and 
thus  completely  reinstated  himself.  He  knelt 
before  me ; and,  with  more  humility  than  I 
desired,  implored  my  pardon  for  having  again 
held  intercourse  with  the  Roman. 

“ It  was  my  zeal,”  said  he,  “ to  gain  intelli- 
gence ; for  I knew  that  nothing  passed  in  the 
provinces  a secret  from  him.  This  letter  is 
his  answer,  and  perhaps  1 shall  be  forgiven 
for  the  sake  of  what  it  contains.”  I read  it 
with  trembling  avidity.  It  was  mysterious; 
described  two  fugitives  who  had  made  their 
escape  to  Caesarea;  and  intimated  that,  as 
they  were  about  to  fly  into  Asia  Minor,  the 
pursuit  must  be  immediate,  and  conducted 
with  the  utmost  secrecy. 

I was  instantly  on  horseback.  Dreading 
to  disturb  my  family  by  false  hopes,  I order- 
ed out  my  hounds,  ranged  the  hills  in  sight 
of  my  dwelling,  and  then  turning  off,  struck 
in  the  spur,  and,  attended  only  by  the  do- 
mestic, went  full  speed  to  Caesarea.  From 


50 


Salathiel. 


the  summit  of  Mount  Carmel,  I looked  down 
upon  the  city  and  the  broad  Mediterranean. 
But  my  eyes  then  felt  no  delight  in  the  gran- 
deur of  art  or  nature.  The  pompous  struc- 
tures on  which  Herod  the  Great  had  expend- 
ed a treasure  beyond  count,  and  which  the 
residence  of  the  governor  made  the  Roman 
capital  of  Judea,  were  to  me  but  so  many 
dens  and  dungeons,  in  which  my  child  might 
be  hid.  The  sea  showed  me  only  the  path 
by  which  she  might  have  been  borne  away, 
or  the  grave  in  which  her  wanderings  were 
to  close. 

By  extraordinary  speed,  I reached  the  gates 
just  as  the  trumpet  was  sounding  for  their 
close.  My  attendant  went  forth  to  obtain 
information  : and  I was  left  pacing  my  cham- 
ber in  feverish  suspense.  I did  not  suffer  it 
long.  The  door  opened,  and  a group  of  sol- 
diers ordered  me  to  follow  them.  Resistance 
was  useless.  They  led  me  to  the  palac.e. 
There  I was  delivered  from  guard  to  guard, 
through  a long  succession  of  apartments, 
until  we  reached  the  door  of  a banqneting- 
room.  The  festivity  within  was  high ; and 
if  I could  have  then  sympathized  with  sing- 
ing and  laughter,  I might  have  had  full  in- 
dulgence during  the  immeasurable  hour  that 
I lingered  out,  a broken  wretch,  exhausted 
by  desperate  effort,  sick  at  heart,  and  of 
course  not  unanxious  for  the  result  of  an 
interview  with  the  Roman  procurator ; a 
man  whose  name  was  equivalent  to  vice, 
•extortion,  and  love  of  blood,  throughout 
Judea. 

At  length  the  feast  was  at  an  end.  I was 
summoned,  and  for  the  first  time  saw  Gessius 
Florus,  a little,  bloated  figure,  with  a coun- 
tenance that  to  the  casual  observer  was  the 
model  of  gross  good  nature,  a twinkling  eye, 
and  a lip  on  the  perpetual  laugh.  His  bald 
forehead  wore  a wreath  of  flowers,  and  his 
tunic  and  the  couch  on  which  he  lay  breath- 
ed perfume.  The  table  before  him  was  a 
long  vista  of  sculptured  cups,  and  golden 
vases  and  candelabra.  “ I am  sorry  to  have 
detained  you  so  long,”  said  he,  “but  this  was 
the  emperor’s  birth-day,  and,  as  good  subjects, 
we  have  kept  it  accordingly.” 

During  this  speech,  he  was  engaged  in 
contemplating  the  wine-bubbles  as  they  spark- 
led above  the  brim  of  a large  amethystine 
goblet.  A pale  and  delicate  Italian  boy, 
sumptuously  dressed,  the  only  one  of  the 
guests  who  remained,  perceiving  that  I was 
fatigued,  filled  a cup,  and  presented  it.  “ Right, 
Septimius,”  said  the  debauchee,  “ make  the 
Jew  drink  the  emperor’s  health.”  The  youth 
bowed  gracefully  before  me,  and  again  offer- 
ed the  cup ; but  the  time  was  not  for  indul- 
gence, and  I laid  it  on  the  table.  “Here’s 
long  life  and  glory  to  Nero  Claudius  Caesar, 
our  pious,  merciful,  and  invincible  emperor,” 


I cried  Florus ; and  only  when  he  had  drunk 
to  the  bottom  of  the  goblet,  found  leisure  to 
look  upon  his  prisoner.  He  either  felt  or  af- 
fected surprise,  and  turning  to  his  young 
companion,  said,  “ By  Hercules,  boy,  what 
grand  fellows  those  Jews  make  ! The  hel- 
met is  nothing  to  the  turban,  after  all.  What 
magnificence  of  beard  ! no  Italian  chin  has 
the  vigor  to  grow  any  thing  so  superb;  then, 
the  neck,  like  the  bull  of  Milo ; and  those 
blazing  eyes ! If  I had  but  a legion  of  such 
spearsmen ” 

I grew  impatient,  and  said,  “ I stand  here, 
procurator,  in  your  bonds — I demand  why  1 
— 1 have  business  that  requires  my  instant 
attention  : and  I desire  to  be  gone.” 

“ Now,  have  I treated  you  so  inhospitably,” 
said  he,  laughing,  “that  you  expect  I shall 
finish  by  shutting  my  doors  upon  you  at  this 
time  of  night.”  He  glanced  upon  his  tablets, 
and  read  my  name.  “Aye,”  said  he,  “and 
after  I have  been  so  long  wishing  for  the 
honor  of  your  company.  Jew,  take  your 
wine,  and  sit  down  upon  that  couch,  and  tell 
me  what  brought  you  to  Cffisarea.” 

I told  him  briefly  the  circumstances.  He 
roared  with  laughter,  desired  me  to  repeat 
them,  and  swore  that  “ by  all  the  gods  it  was 
the  very  best  piece  of  pleasantry  he  had 
heard  since  he  set  foot  in  Judea.”  I stood 
up  in  irrepressible  indignation.  “What!” 
said  he,  “ will  you  go  without  hearing  my 
storv  in  return  1”  He  filled  his  goblet  again 
to  the  brim,  buried  his  purple  visage  in  a 
vase  of  roses,  and  having  inhaled  the  fra- 
grance, and  chosen  an  easy  posture,  said, 
coldly,  “Jew,  you  have  told  me  a most  excel- 
lent story;  and  it  is  only  fair  that  I should 
tell  you  one  in  return  ; not  half  so  amusing, 

I admit,  but  to  the  full  as  true.  Jew,  you 
are  a traitor !” 

I started  back.  “Jew,”  said  he,  “you 
must  in  common  civility  hear  me  out.  The 
truth  is,  that  your  visit  has  been  so  often  an- 
ticipated, and  so  long  delayed,  that  I cannot 
bear  to  part  with  you  yet; — you  are  an  apos- 
tate; you  encourage  those  Christian  dogs. 

I Why  does  the  man  stare? — you  are  ih  com- 
munication with  rebels;  and  I might  have 
had  the  honor  of  meeting  you  in  the  field,  if 
you  had  not  been  in  my  hands  in  Cfesarea.” 

He  pronounced  those  words  of  death  in  the 
most  tranquil  tone;  not  a muscle  moved; 
the  cup  which  he  held  brimful  in  his  hand  > 
never  overflowed. 

“Jew’,”  said  he,  “now  be  honest,  and  so 
far  set  an  example  to  your  nation.  Where 
is  the  money  that  has  been  gathered  for  this 
rebellion?  You  are  too  sagacious  a soldier 
to  think  of  going  to  war  without  the  main 
spring  of  the  machine.” 

| I scorned  to  deny  the  intended  insurrec- 
1 tion ; but  “ money  I had  collected  none.” 


Salalhiel. 


51 


“ Then,”  said  he,  “you  are  now  compel-! 
ling  me  to  what  I do  not  like.  Ho  ! guard  !” 
A soldier  presented  himself.  “Desire  that 
the  rack  shall  be  got  ready.”  The  man  re- 
tired. “ You  see,  Jew,  this  is  all  your  own 
doing.  Give  up  the  money,  and  I give  up 
the  rack.  And  the  surrender  of  the  coin  is 
asked  merely  in  compassion  to  yourselves, 
for  without  it  you  cannot  rebel,  and  the  more 
you  rebel  the  more  you  will  be  beaten.” 

“ beware,  Gessius  Floras,”  I exclaimed, 
“beware.  1 am  your  prisoner,  entrapped,  as 
I now  see,  by  a villain,  or  by  the  greater  vil- 
lain who  corrupted  him.  You  may  rack  me 
if  you  will ; you  may  insult  my  feelings;  tear 
my  flesh;  take  my  life:  but  for  this  there 
will  be  retribution.  Through  Upper  Galilee, 
from  Tiberias  to  the  top  of  Libanus,  this  act 
of  blood  will  ring,  and  be  answered  by  blood. 
I have  kinsmen  many;  countrymen,  myriads. 
A single  wrench  of  my  sinews  may  lift  a 
hundred  thousand  arms  against  your  city, 
and  leave  of  yourself  nothing  but  the  remem- 
brance of  your  crimes.” 

He  bounded  from  his  couch : the  native 
fiend  flashed  out  in  his  countenance:  I wait- 
ed his  attack,  with  my  hand  on  the  poniard 
within  my  sash.  My  look  probably  deterred' 
him  : for  he  flung  himself  back  again  and 
bursting  into  a loud  laugh,  exclaimed  ; “ Brave- 
ly spoken.  Septirnius,  we  must  send  the 
Jew  fo  Rome  to  teach  our  orators.  Aye,  I 
know  Upper  Galilee  too  well,  not  to  know 
that  rebellion  is  more  easily  raised  there  than 
the  taxes.  And  it  was  for  that  reason,  that 
I invited  you  to  come  to  Csesarea.  In  the; 
midst  of  your  tribe,  capture  would  have  cost 
half  a legion  ; here  a single  jailor  will  do  the 
business.  Ho!  guard!”  he  called  aloud.  I 
heard  the  screwing  of  the  rack  in  the  next 
room,  and  unsheathed  the  poinard.  The 
blade  glittered  in  his  eyes.  Septirnius  came 
between  us,  and  tried  to  turn  the  procurator’s 
purpose. 

“ Let  your  guard  come,”  cried  I,  “ and,  by 
the  sacredness  of  the  Temple,  one  of  us  dies. 
I will  not  live  to  be  tortured,  or  you  shall  not 
live  to  see  it.” 

If  the  door  had  opened  I was  prepared  to 
dart  upon  him. 

“ Well,”  said  he,  after  a whispered  expos- 
tulation from  Septirnius,  “ you  must  go  and 
settle  the  matter  with  the  Emperor.  The 
fact  is,  that  I am  too  tender-hearted  to  gov-: 
ern  such  a nation  of  dagger-bearers.  So, 
to  Nero!  If  we  cannot  send  the  Emperor 
money,  we  will  at  least  send  him  men.”  He 
laughed  vehemently  at  the  conception  ; or- 
dered the  singing  and  dancing  slaves  to  re- 
turn; called  for  wine,  and  plunged  again 
into  his  favorite  cup.  Septirnius  rose,  and 
led  me  into  another  chamber.  I remonstrated 
against  the  injustice  of  my  seizure.  He 


lamented  it,  but  said  that  the  orders  from 
Rome  were  strict,  and  that  I was  denounced 
by  some  of  the  chiefs  in  Jerusalem  as  the 
head  of  the  late  insurrection,  and  the  projec- 
tor of  a new  one.  The  procurator,  he  added, 
had  been  for  some  time  anxious  to  get  me 
into  his  power  without  raising  a disturbance 
among  my  tribe  ; the  treachery  of  my  domes- 
tic had  been  employed  to  effect  this ; and 
“ now,”  concluded  he,  “ my  best  wish  for  you 
— a wish  prompted  by  motives  of  which  you 
can  form  no  conjecture,  is,  that  you  may  be 
sent  to  Rome.  Every  day  that  sees  you  in 
Csesarea  sees  you  in  the  utmost  peril.  At 
the  first  rumor  of  insurrection,  your  life  will 
be  the  sacrifice.” 

“ But  my  family  ! What  will  be  their 
feelings!  Can  I not  at  least  acquaint  them 
with  my  destination!” 

“ It  is  impossible.  And  now,  to  let  you 
into  a state  secret,  the  Emperor  had  ordered 
that  you  should  be  sent  to  Rome.  Floras 
menaced,  only  to  extort  money.  He  now 
knows  you  better,  and  would  gladly  enlist 
you  in  the  Roman  cause.  This  I know  to  be 
hopeless.  But  I dread  his  caprice,  and  shall 
rejoice  to  see  the  sails  hoisted  that  are  to 
carry  you  to  Rome.  Farewell ; your  family 
shall  have  due  intelligence.”  He  was  at  the 
door  of  the  chamber,  but  suddenly  returned, 
and  pressing  my  hand,  said  again,  “ Farewell, 
and  remember  that  neither  all  Romans,  nor 
even  all  Greeks,  may  be  alike!”  He  then 
with  a graceful  obeisance  left  the  room. 

Fatigue  hung  with  a leaden  weight  upon 
my  eyelids.  I tried  vain  experiments  to 
keep  myself  from  slumber  in  this  perilous  vi- 
cinage. The  huge  silver  chandelier,  that 
threw  a blaze  over  the  fretted  roof,  began  to 
twinkle  before  me;  the  busts  and  statues 
gradually  mingled,  and  I was  once  more  in 
the  land  of  visions.  Home  was  before  my 
eyes.  I was  suddenly  tost  upon  the  ocean. 
I stood  before  Nero,  and  was  addressing  him 
with  a formal  harangue,  when  the  whole  tis- 
sue was  broken  up,  by  a sullen  voice  com- 
manding me  to  rise.  A soldier,  sword  in  band, 
was  by  the  couch : he  pointed  to  the  door, 
where  an  armed  party  were  in  attendance, 
and  informed  me  that  I was  ordered  for  im- 
mediate embarkation. 

It  w'as  scarcely  past  midnight ; the  stars 
were  still  in  their  glory  ; the  pharos  threw  a 
long  line  of  flame  on  the  waters;  the  city 
sounds  were  hushed  ; and  silent  as  a proces- 
sion to  the  grave,  we  moved  down  to  where 
the  tall  vessel  lay  rocking  with  the  breeze. 
At  her  side  a Nubian  slave  put  a note  into 
my  hand.  It  was  from  the  young  Roman, 
requesting  my  acceptance  of  wine  and  fruits 
from  the  palace,  and  wishing  me  a prospe- 
rous result  to  my  voyage.  The  sails  were 
hoisted  ; the  stately  mole,  that  even  in  the 


52 


Salathiel. 


night  looked  a mount  of  marble,  was  clear- 
ed ; the  libation  was  poured  to  the  Tritons 
for  our  speedy  passage,  and  the  blazing  pharos 
was  rapidly  seen  but  as  a twinkling  star. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Our  trireme  flew  before  the  wind.  By 
day-break,  the  coast  was  but  a pale  line  along 
the  waters;  but  Carmel  $till  towered  proud- 
ly eminent,  and  with  its  top  alternately 
clouded  and  glittering  in  the  sun,  might  have 
been  taken  for  a gigantic  beacon,  throwing 
up  alternate  smoke  and  flame.  With  what 
eyes  did  I continue  to  look,  until  the  mighty 
hill  too  sank  in  the  waters  ! But  thought  still 
lingered  on  shore.  I saw,  with  a keenness 
more  than  of  the  eye,  the  family  circle ; 
through  many  an  hour  of  gazing  on  the 
waters,  I was  all  but  standing  in  the  midst 
of  those  walls  which  I might  never  more 
see;  listening  to  the  uncomplaining  sighs  of 
Miriam,  the  impassioned  remonstrances  of 
my  sole  remaining  child,  and  busied  in  tiie 
still  harder  task  of  finding  out  some  defence 
against  the  self-accusation  that  laid  the 
charge  of  rashness  and  cruelty  heavy  upon 
my  soul.  But  the  scene  round  me  was  the 
very  reverse  of  moody  meditation.  The  cap- 
tain was  a thorough  Italian  trierarch,  ostenta- 
tious, gay,  given  to  superstition,  and  occa- 
sionally a little  of  a freethinker.  His  ship 
was  to  him  child,  wife,  and  world;  and  at 
every  manoeuvre  he  claimed  from  us  such 
tribute  as  a father  might  for  the  virtues  of 
his  favorite  offspring:  perpetual  luck  was  in 
every  thing  that  she  did  : she  knew  every 
headland  from  Cyprus  to  Ostia : a pilot  was 
a mere  supernumerary : she  could  run  the 
whole  course  without  the  helm,  if  she  pleased. 
She  beat  the  Liburnian  for  speed ; the  Cy- 
priot for  comfort ; the  Sicilian  for  safety ; and 
every  other  vessel  on  the  seas  for  every  other 
quality.  “ All  he  asked  was,  to  live  in  her, 
while  he  lived  at  all.;  and  to  go  down  in  her, 
when  the  Fates  were  at  last  to  cut  his  thread, 
as  they  did  those  of  all  captains  whether  on 
sea  or  land.” 

The  panegyric  of  the  good  ship  Ganymede 
was  in  some  degree  merited  ; she  carried  us 
on  boldly.  For  a sea  in  which  the  winds  are 
constant  when  they  come,  but  in  which  the 
calms  are  as  constant  as  the  winds,  nothing 
could  have  been  more  adapted  than  the  an- 
cient galley.  The  sail  or  oar  never  failed. 
If  the  gale  arose,  the  ship  shot  along,  like 
the  eagle  that  bore  the  Trojan  boy;  light, 
strong,  with  its  white  sails  full  of  the  breeze, 
and  cleaving  the  surge  with  the  rapidity  of 
an  arrow.  If  the  wind  fell,  we  floated  in  a 


pavilion,  screened  from  the  sun,  refreshed 
I with  perfumes  burning  on  poop,  prow,  and 
masts,  surrounded  with  gilding,  and  the  carv- 
ings and  paintings  of  the  Greek  artists,  drink- 
ing delicious  wines,  listening  to  song  and 
j story,  and  in  all  this  enjoyment,  gliding  in- 
sensibly along  on  a lake  of  absolute  sapphire, 
encircled  and  varied  by  the  most  picturesque 
and  lovely  islands  in  the  world. 

The  Ganymede  had  been  under  especial 
orders  from  Rome  for  my  transmission ; but 
I the  captain  felt  too  much  respect  for  the  pro- 
curator not  to  tresspass  on  the  letter  of  the 
law,  so  far  as  to  fill  up  the  vacancies  of  his 
hold  with  merchandize,  in  which  Florus 
drove  a steady  contraband  trade.  Having 
done  so  much  to  gratify  the  governor’s  dis- 
tinguishing propensity,  he  next  provided  for 
his  own;  and  loaded  his  gallant  vessel  merci- 
lessly with  passengers,  as  much  prohibited 
as  his  merchandize.  While  we  were  still  in 
sight  of  land,  I walked  a lonely  deck;  but 
when  the  salutary  fear  of  the  galleys  on  the 
station  was  past,  every  corner  of  the  Gany- 
mede let  loose  a living  cargo. 

For  the  Jewish  chieftain  going  from  Florus 
on  a mission  to  the  Emperor,  as  the  captain 
conceived  me  and  my  purpose  to  be,  a sepa- 
rate portion  of  the  deck  was  kept  sacred. 
But  I mingled  from  time  to  time  with  the 
crowd  and  thus  contrived  to  preserve  at  once 
my  respect  and  my  popularity.  Never  was 
there  a more  miscellaneous  collection.  We 
transported  into  Europe  a Chaldee  sorcerer, 
an  Indian  gymnosophist,  an  Arab  teacher  of 
astrology,  a magian  from  Persepolis,  and  a 
Platonist  from  Alexandria.  Such  were  our 
contributions  to  Oriental  science.  We  had, 
besides,  a dealer  in  sleight  of  hand  from  Da- 
mascus; an  Egyptian  with  tame  monkeys 
and  a model  of  a pyramid ; a Syrian  serpent- 
teacher;  an  Idumean  maker  of  amulets 
against  storm  and  calm,  thirst  and  hunger, 
and  every  other  disturbance  and  distress  of 
life  ; an  Armenian  discoverer  of  the  stone  by 
which  gold  mines  were  to  be  discovered  : a 
Byzantine  inventor  of  the  true  Oriental  pearls; 
a dealer  from  the  Caspian  in  gums  superse- 
ding all  that  Arabia  ever  wept;  an  Epicurean 
philosopher,  who  professed  indolence,  and,  to 
do  him  justice,  was  a striking  example  of  his 
doctrine;  and  a Stoic,  who  having  gone  his 
rounds  of  the  Roman  garrisons  as  a teacher  of 
dancing,  a curer  of  wines,  and  a flute-player, 
had  now  risen  into  the  easier  vocation  of 
a philosopher.  Of  course,  among  those  pro- 
fessors, the  discoverer  of  gold  was  the  most 
moneyless;  the  maker  of  amulets  against 
misfortune  the  most  miserable;  and  the 
Stoic  the  most  impatient.  The  Epicurean 
alone  adhered  to  the  spirit  of  his  profes- 
sion. 

But  the  unstable  elements  round  ns  were 


Salat  hiel. 


53 


a severe  trial  for  any  human  philosophy  but 
that  of  a thorough  Optimist.  Wind  and 
water,  the  two  most  imperious  of  things, 
were  our  masters  ; and  a calm,  a breeze,  or 
even  a billow,  often  tried  our  reasoners  too 
roughly  for  the  honor  of  tempers  so  saturated 
with  wisdom.  On  those  occasions  the  Pla- 
tonist  defended  the  antiquity  of  Egypt  with 
double  pertinacity  ; the  Chaldee  derided  its 
novelty  by  the  addition  of  a hundred  thousand 
years  to  his  chronology  of  Babylon ; the  In- 
dian with  increased  scorn,  wrinkling  his 
brown  visage,  told  them  that  both  Babylon 
and  Egypt  were  baubles  of  yesterday,  com- 
pared with  the  million  years  of  India.  The 
dagger  would  have  silenced  many  a discus- 
sion on  the  chief  good,  the  origin  of  benevo- 
lence, and  the  beauty  of  virtue,  but  for  the 
voice  of  the  captain,  which,  like  thunder,1 
cleared  the  air.  He,  I will  allow,  was  the 
truest  philosopher  of  us  all.  The  Trierarch 
was  an  unconscious  Optimist ; nothing  could 
touch  him  with  the  shape  of  misfortune  ; for, 
to  him  it  had  no  existence.  If  the  storm 
rose,  “ we  should  get  the  more  rapidly  into 
port;”  if  the  calm  came  to  fix  us  scorching 
on  the  face  of  the  ocean,  “ nothing  could  be 
safer.”  If  our  provisions  fell  short,  “ abste- 
miousness now  and  then  was  worth  a genera- 
tion of  doctors.”  If  the  sun  burned  above  us 
with  the  fire  of  a ball  of  red-hot  iron,  “ it  was 
the  test  of  fair  weather ;”  if  the  sky  was  a 
mass  of  vapor,  “ we  escaped  being  roasted 
alive.” 

His  maxims  on  higher  subjects  were 
equally  consoling.  “ If  man  had  to  struggle 
through  life,  struggle  was  the  nursing  mother 
of  greatness.  If  he  were  opulent,  he  had 
gained  the  end  without  the  trouble.  If  man 
had  disease,  he  learned  patience  and  fortitude, 
essentials  for  sailor,  soldier,  and  philosopher 
alike.  If  he  enjoyed  health,  who  could  doubt 
the  blessing! — if  he  lived  long,  he  had  time  for 
enjoyment;  if  he  died  early,  he  escaped  the 
chances  of  the  tables’  turning.”  The  Optimist 
applied  his  principle  to  me  by  gravely  inform- 
ing me  that  “ though  it  depended  on  the  Em-  j 
peror’s  state  of  digestion,  whether  1 should  or 
should  not  carry  back  my  head  from  his  pre- 
sence, yet,  if  I lived  I should  see  the  games 
of  the  Circus,  and  if  I did  not,  I should  in  all 
probability  care  but  little  about  the  matter.” 

Nothing  in  the  variety  of  later  Europe 
gives  me  a parallel  to  the  distinctions  of  rank 
and  profession,  style  of  subsistence,  and  phy- 
siognomy, of  the  ancient  world.  Human  na- 
ture was  classed  in  every  kingdom,  province, 
and  city,  almost  as  rigidly  as  the  different  races 
of  mankind.  The  divisions  of  the  slave,  the 
freedman,  the  citizen,  the  artist,  the  priest, 
the  man  of  literature,  the  man  of  public  life, 
were  marked  with  a ploughshare,  whose  fur- 
rows were  never  filled  up  but  by  the  rarest 


chance.  Life  had  the  curious  mixture  of 
costume,  the  palpable  diversity  of  purpose, 
and  the  vivid  intricacy  of  a drama. 

Our  voyage  was  rapid  ; but  even  a linger- 
ing transit  would  have  been  cheered  by  the 
animation  of  the  innumerable  objects  of  beau- 
ty and  renown,  which  rise  on  every  side  in 
the  passage  through  a Grecian  sea.  The  is- 
lands were  then  untouched  by  the  spoiler  ; 
the  opulence  of  Rome  had  been  added  to  At- 
tic taste  ; and  temples,  theatres,  and  palaces, 
starting  from  groves,  or  studding  the  sides 
of  stately  hills,  and  reflected  in  the  mirror  of 
bays,  smooth' and  bright  as  polished  steel, 
held  the  eye  a continual  captive.  On  the 
sea,  flights  of  vessels,  steering  in  all  direc- 
tions, glittering  with  the  emblems  of  their 
nations,  the  colored  pennants,  the  painted 
prows,  the  gilded  images  of  the  protecting 
idols,  covered  the  horizon  with  life. 

We  had  reached  the  southern  Cape  of 
Greece,  and  were,  with  a boldness  unusual 
to  ancient  navigation,  stretching  across  in  a 
starless  night,  for  the  coast  of  Italy,  when 
we  caught  a sound  of  distant  music,  that  re- 
called the  poetic  dreams  of  nymphs  and  tri- 
tons. The  sound  swelled  and  sank  on  the 
wind,  as  if  it  came  from  the  depths  of  the 
ocean,  or  the  bosom  of  the  clouds.  As  we 
parted  from  the  land,  it  swelled  richer,  until 
it  filled  the  midnight  with  pompous  harmony. 
To  sleep  was  profanation,  and  we  all  gather- 
ed on  the  deck,  exhausting  nature  and  art  in 
conjectures  of  the  cause. 

The  harmony  approached  and  receded  at 
intervals,  grew  in  volume  and  richness,  then 
stole  away  in  wild  murmurs,  or  died,  to  re- 
vive with  still  more  luxuriant  sweetness. 
Night  passed  away  in  delight  and  conjecture. 
Morning  alone  brought  the  solution.  Full 
in  the  blaze  of  sunrise  steered  the  imperial 
fleet,  returning  in  triumph  from  the  Olympic 
games,  with  the  Emperor  on  board.  We  had 
unconsciously  approached  it  during  the  dark- 
ness. The  whole  scene  wore  the  aspect  of 
a vision  summoned  by  the  hand  of  an  enchan- 
ter. The  sea  was  covered  with  the  fleet  in 
order  of  battle.  Rome  of  the  galleys  were 
of  vast  size,  and  all  were  gleaming  with  gold 
and  decorations ; silken  sails,  garlands  on 
the  masts,  trophies  hung  over  the  sides,  and 
embroidered  streamers  of  every  shape  and  hue, 
met  the  morning  light.  We  passed  the  wing 
of  the  fleet,  close  enough  to  see  the  sacrifi- 
cial fires  on  the  poop  of  the  imperial  quinqu- 
reme.  A crowd  in  purple  and  military  habits 
were  standing  round  a throne,  above  which 
proudly  waved  the  scarlet  flag  of  command. 
A figure  advanced,  all  foreheads  were  bowed, 
acclamations  rent  the  air;  the  trumpets  of  the 
fleet  flourished,  and  the  lofty  and  luxuriant 
harmonies,  that  had  charmed  us  in  the  night, 
again  swelled  upon  the  wind,  and  followed  us 


54 


Salathiel. 


long  after  the  whole  floating  splendor  had  dis- 
solved into  the  distant  blue. 

At  length  the  headlands  of  the  noble  bay 
of  Tarentum  rose  above  the  horizon.  While 
we  were  running  with  the  speed  of  a lap- 
wing, the  captain,  to  our  surprise,  shortened 
sail.  I soon  discovered  that  no  philosophy 
was  perfect;  that  even  the  Optimist  thought 
that  daylight  might  be  worse  than  useless, 
and  that  a blot  had  been  left  in  creation  in  the 
shape  of  a custom-house  officer. 

Night  fell  at  last;  the  moon,  to  which  our 
captain  had  taken  a sudden  aversion,  was  as 
cloudy  as  he  could  desire ; and  we  rushed  in 
between  the  glimmering  watch-towers  on  the 
Japygian  and  Lacinian  promontories.  The 
glow  of  light  along  the  waters  soon  pointed 
out  where  the  luxurious  citizens  of  Tarentum 
were  enjoying  the  banquet  in  their  barges 
and  villas.  Next  came  the  hum  of  the  great 
city,  whose  popular  boast  was,  like  that  of 
later  times,  that  it  had  more  holydays  than 
days  in  the  year. 

But  the  Trierarch’s  often-painted  delight 
at  finding  himself  free  to  rove  among  the  in- 
dulgences of  his  favorite  shore  had  lost  its 
poignancy;  and  with  a firmness  which  set 
the  Stoic  in  a rage,  the  Epicurean  in  a state 
of  rebellion,  and  the  whole  tribe  of  our  sages 
in  a temper  of  mere  mortal  remonstrance  ; he 
resisted  alike  the  remonstrance  and  the  al- 
lurement; and  sullenly  cast  anchor  in  the 
centre  of  the  bay.  It  was  not  until  song  and 
feast  had  died,  and  all  was  hushed,  that  he 
stole  with  the  slightest  possible  noise  to  the 
back  of  the  mole,  and  sending  us  below, 
disburdened  his  conscience  and  the  good  ship 
Ganymede. 

I had  no  time  to  give  to  the  glories  of  Ta- 
rentum. Nero's  approach  hurried  my  de- 
parture. The  centurion  who  had  me  in 
charge  trembled  at  the  idea  of  delay  ; and  we 
rode  through  the  midst  of  three  hundred 
thousand  sleepers  in  streets  of  marble  and 
ranks  oftrophies,  as  silently  and  swiftly  as  if 
we  had  been  the  ghosts  of  their  ancestors. 
When  the  day  broke  we  found  ourselves 
among-  the  Lucanian  hills,  then  no  desert, 
but  living  with  population,  and  bright  with 
the  memorials  of  Italian  opulence  and  taste. 
From  the  inn  where  we  halted  to  change 
horses,  the  Tarentine  gulf  spread  broad  and 
bold  before  the  eye. 

The  city  of  luxury  and  of  power,  once  the 
ruler  of  southern  Italy,  and  mistress  of  the 
seas;  that  sent  out  armies  and  fleets  worthy 
to  contest  the  supremacy  with  Pyrrhus  and 
the  Carthaginian;  was,  from  this  spot,  sunk, 
like  all  the  works  of  man,  into  iittleness. 
But  the  gulf,  like  all  the  works  of  nature, 
grew  in  grandeur.  Its  circular  shore  edged 
with  thirteen  cities,  the  deep  azure  of  its 
smooth  waters  inlaid  with  the  flashes  of  sun- 


rise, and  traversed  by  fleets,  diminished  to 
toys;  reminded  me  of  one  of  the  magnificent 
Roman  shields,  with  its  centre  of  sanguine 
steel,  the  silver  incrustation  of  the  rim,  and 
the  storied  sculpture. 

We  passed  at  full  speed  through  the  Lu- 
canian and  Samnian  provinces,  fine  sweeps 
of  cultivated  country,  interspersed  with  the 
hunting  grounds  of  the  great  patricians;  fo- 
rests that  had  not  felt  the  axe  for  centuries, 
and  hills  sheeted  with  the  wild  vine  and  rose. 
But  on  reaching  the  border  of  Latium,  I was 
i already  in  Rome  ; I travelled  a day’s  journey 
among  streets,  and  in  the  midst  of  a crowded 
and  hurrying  population.  The  whole  was 
one  huge  suburb,  with  occasional  glimpses  of 
a central  mount,  crowned  with  glittering  and 
gilded  structures.  “ There  !”  said  the  cen- 
turion, with  somewhat  of  religious  reverence, 
“Behold  the  eternal  Capitol!” — I entered 
Rome  at  night,  passing  through  an  endless 
number  of  narrow  and  intricate  streets,  where 
! hovels,  the  very  abode  of  want,  were  mingled 
! with  palaces  blazing  with  lights  and  echoing 
with  festivity.  The  centurion’s  house  was 
at  length  reached.  He  showed  me  to  an 
apartment,  and  left  me,  saying,  “ that  I must 
prepare  to  be  brought  before  the  Emperor  im- 
mediately on  his  arrival.” 

I am  now,  thought  1,  in  the  heart  of  the 
heart  of  the  world  ; in  the  midst  of  that  place 
of  power,  from  which  the  destiny  of  nations 
issues;  in  the  great  treasure-house  to  which 
men  come  from  the  ends  of  the  earth  for 
knowledge,  for  justice,  wealth,  honor,  thrones! 
and  what  atn  1 1 — a solitary  slave  ! 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

The  genius  of  the  Italian  has,  from  the 
beginning,  been  the  same — bustling,  sight- 
loving,  fond  of  every  thing  in  the  shape  of 
indulgence,  yet  fondest  of  indulgence  where 
the  eye  could  be  gratified.  He  was  a sen- 
sualist, but  of  all  sensualists  the  most  suscep- 
tible of  elegance.  His  Greek  blood,  his  fine 
climate,  and  the  perpetual  displays  of  the 
noblest  works  of  art,  brought  by  conquest, 
contributed  to  this  temperament;  but  the 
foundation  was  in  that  genius,  which  has 
made  his  country  the  second  cradle  of  the 
arts  of  Europe.  I never  saw  a little  peasant- 
celebration,  a dance,  a sacrifice  of  a few 
flowers,  that  did  not  contain  the  spirit  of 
poetic  beauty.  Rome  W’as  all  shows.  Its 
innumerable  public  events  w'ere  thrown  into 
the  shape  of  pageantry.  Its  worship,  elec- 
tions, the  departure  and  return  of  governors 
and  consuls,  every  operation  of  public  life 
was  modelled  into  a pomp ; and  in  the  bound- 
less extent  of  the  empire,  those  operations 


Salathiel. 


55 


were  crowding  on  each  other  every  day. 
The  multitude,  that  can  still  be  set  in  motion 
by  a wooden  saint,  was  then  summoned  by 
the  stirring  and  powerful  ceremonial  of  em- 
pire, the  actual  sovereignty  of  the  globe. 
What  must  have  been  the  strong  excitement, 
the  perpetual  concourse,  the  living  and  vari- 
ous activity  of  a city  from  which  emanated 
the  stream  of  power  through  the  world,  to 
return  to  it  loaded  with  all  that  the  opulence, 
skill,  and  glory  of  the  world  could  give  ! 

Triumphs,  to  whose  grandeur  and  singu- 
larity the  pomps  of  later  days  are  but  the 
attempts  of  paupers  and  children;  sacrifices 
and  rites,  on  which  the  very  existence  of  the 
state  was  to  depend  ; the  levy  and  march  of 
armies,  which  were  to  carry  fate  to  the  re- 
motest corners  of  the  earth  ; the  pageants  of 
the  kings  of  the  east  and  west,  coming  to 
solicit  diadems,  or  to  deprecate  the  irresisti- 
ble arms  of  Rome ; vast  theatres  ; public 
games,  that  tasked  the  whole  fertility  of  Ita- 
lian talent,  and  the  most  prodigal  lavishness 
of  imperial  luxury ; were  the  movers  that 
among  the  three  millions  of  Rome  made  life 
a hurricane. 

I saw  it  in  its  full  and  joyous  commotion  ; 
I saw  it  in  its  desperate  agony ; I saw  it  in  its 
frivolous  revival;  and  I shall  see  it  in  an 
hour,  wilder,  weaker,  and  more  terrible  than 

all. 

By  an  influence  of  which  I was  then  ig- 
norant, I was  permitted  to  be  present  at  some 
of  those  displays,  under  charge  of  the  centu- 
rion. No  man  could  be  better  fitted  for  a 
state  jailor.  Civility  sat  on  his  lips,  but  cau- 
tion the  most  profound  sat  beside  her.  He 
professed  to  have  the  deepest  dependence  on 
my  honor,  yet  he  never  let  me  beyond  his 
eye.  But  I had  no  desire  to  escape.  The 
crisis  must  come ; and  I was  as  well  inclined 
to  meet  it  then,  as  to  have  it  hanging  over 
me. 

Intelligence  in  a few  days  arrived  from 
Brundusium  of  the  emperor’s  landing,  and  of 
his  intention  to  remain  at  Antium,  on  the 
road  to-Rome,  until  his  triumphal  entry  should 
be  prepared.  My  fate  now  hung  in  the  scale. 
I was  ordered  to  attend  the  imperial  presence. 
At  the  vestibule  of  the  Antian  palace,  my 
careful  centurion  deposited  me  in  the  hands 
of  a senator.  As  I followed  him  through  the 
halls,  a young  female  richly  attired,  and  of 
the  most  beautiful  face  and  form,  crossed  us, 
light  and  graceful  as  a dancing  nymph.  The 
senator  bowed  profoundly.  She  beckoned  to 
him,  and  they  exchanged  a few  words.  I 
was  probably  the  subject ; for  her  counte- 
nance, sparkling  with  the  animation  of  youth 
and  loveliness,  grew  pale  at  once:  she  clasped 
both  her  hands  upon  her  eyes,  and  rushed 
into  an  inner  chamber.  She  knew  Nero 
well ; and  dearly  she  was  yet  to  pay  for  her 


knowledge.  The  senator  to  my  inquiring 
glance,  answered  in  a whisper,  “ The  Em- 
press Poppsea.” 

A few  steps  onward,  and  I stood  in  the 
presence  of  the  most  formidable  being  on 
earth.  .Yet,  whatever  might  have  been  the 
natural  agitation  of  the  time,  I could  scarcely 
restrain  a smile  at  the  first  sight  of  Nero.  I 
saw  a pale,  under-sized,  light-haired  young 
man  sitting  before  a table  with  a lyre  on  it, 
a few  copies  of  verses  and  drawings,  and  a 
parrot’s  cage,  to  whose  inmate  he  was  teach- 
ing Greek  with  great  assiduity.  But  for  the 
regal  furniture  of  the  cabinet,  I should  have 
supposed  myself  led  by  mistake  into  an  inter- 
view with  some  struggling  poet.  He  shot 
round  one  quick  glance,  on  the  opening  of  the 
door,  and  then  proceeded  to  give  lessons  to 
his  bird.  I had  leisure  to  gaze  on  the  tyrant 
and  parricide. 

Physiognomy  is  a true  science.  The  man 
of  profound  thought,  the  man  of  active  ability, 
and  above  all,  the  man  of  genius,  has  his  cha- 
racter stamped  on  his  countenance  by  nature ; 
the  man  of  violent  passions  and  the  voluptuary 
have  it  stamped  by  habit.  But  the  science 
has  its  limits : it  has  no  stamp  for  mere  cruel- 
ty. The  features  of  the  human  monster  be- 
fore me  were  mild,  and  almost  handsome  : a 
heavy  eye  and  a figure  tending  to  fulness 
gave  the  impression  of  a quiet  mind  ; and  but 
for  an  occasional  restlessness  of  brow,  and  a 
brief  glance  from  under  it,  in  which  the  leaden 
eye  darted  suspicion,  I should  have  pronounc- 
ed Nero  one  of  the  most  indolently  tranquil 
of  mankind. 

He  remanded  the  parrot  to  his  perch,  took 
up  his  lyre,  and  throwing  a not-unskilful 
hand  over  the  strings,  in  the  intervals  of  the 
performance  languidly  addressed  a broken 
sentence  to  me.  “ You  have  come,  I under- 
stand, from  Judea ; — they  tell  me  that  you 
have  been,  or  are  to  be,  a general  of  the  in- 
surrection ; — you  must  be  put  to  death  ; — 
your  countrymen  give  us  a great  deal  of 
trouble,  and  I always  regret  to  be  troubled 
with  them. — But  to  send  you  back  would 
only  be  encouragement  to  them,  and  to  keep 
you  here  among  strangers  would  only  be 
cruelty  to  you. — I am  charged  with  cruelty  : 
you  see  the  charge  is  not  true. — I am  lam- 
pooned every  day  ; I know  the  scribblers,  but 
they  must  lampoon  or  starve.  I leave  them 
to  do  both.  Have  you  brought  any  news 
from  Judea  1 — They  have  not  had  a true 
prince  there  since  the  first  Herod  ; and  he 
was  quite  a Greek,  a cut-throat,  and  a man  of 
taste.  He  understood  the  arts. — I sent  for 
you,  to  see  what  sort  of  animal  a Jewish  re- 
bel was.  Your  dress  is  handsome,  but  too 
light  for  our  winters. — You  cannot  die  before 
sunset,  as  till  then  I am  engaged  with  my 
music  master. — We  all  must  die  when  our 


56 


Salat  hiel. 


time  comes. — Farewell — till  sunset  may  Ju- 
piter protect  you  !” 

I retired  to  execution  ! and  before  the  door 
closed,  heard  this  accomplished  disposer  of 
life  and  death  preluding’  upon  his  lyre  with 
increased  energy.  I was  cortducted  to  a 
turret  until  the  period  in  which  the  Emperor’s 
engagement  with  his  music-master  should 
leave  him  at  leasure  to  see  me  die.  Yet 
there  was  kindness  even  under  the  roof  of 
Nero,  and  a liberal  hand  had  covered  the  table 
in  my  cell.  The  hours  passed  heavily  along, 
but  they  passed ; and  I was  watching  the  last 
rays  of  my  last  sun,  when  I perceived  a cloud 
rise  in  the  direction  of  Rome.  It  grew 
broader,  deeper,  darker,  as  I gazed  ; its  cen- 
tre was  suddenly  tinged  with  red ; the  tinge 
spread ; the  whole  mass  of  cloud  became 
crimson  ; the  sun  went  down,  and  another  sun 
seemed  to  have  risen  in  his  stead.  I heard 
the  clattering  of  horses’  feet  in  the  courtyards 
below;  trumpets  sounded;  there  was  confu- 
sion in  the  palace  ; the  troops  hurried  under 
arms  ; and  I saw  a squadron  of  cavalry  set  off 
at  full  speed. 

As  I was  gazing  on  the  spectacle  before 
me,  which  perpetually  became  more  menac- 
ing, the  door  of  my  cell  slowly  opened,  and  a 
masked  figure  stood  upon  the  threshold,  I 
had  made  up  my  mind ; and  demanding  if  he 
was  the  executioner,  I told  him  “ that  I was 
ready.”  The  figure  paused,  listened  to  the 
sounds  below,  and  after  looking  for  a while 
on  the  troops  in  the  court-yard,  signified  by 
signs  that  I had  a chance  of  saving  my  life. 
The  love  of  existence  rushed  back  upon  me. 
I eagerly  inquired  what  was  to  be  done.  He 
drew  from  under  his  cloak  the  dress  of  a 
Roman  slave,  which  I put  on,  and  noiselessly 
followed  his  steps  through  a long  succession 
of  small  and  strangely  intricate  passages.  We 
found  no  difficulty  from  guards  or  domestics. 
The  whole  palace  was  in  a state  of  extraor- 
dinary confusion.  Every  human  being  was 
packing  up  something  or  other : rich  vases, 
myrrhine-cups,  table-services,  were  lying  in 
heaps  on  the  floors ; books,  costly  dresses,  in- 
struments of  music,  all  the  appendages  of 
luxury,  were  flung  loose  in  every  direction, 
from  the  sudden  breaking  up  of  the  court.  I 
might  have  plundered  the  value  of  a province 
with  impunity.  Still  we  wound  our  hurried 
way.  In  passing  along  one  of  the  corridors, 
the  voice  of  complaining  struck  the  ear;  my 
mysterious  guide  hesitated ; I glanced  through 
the  slab  of  crystal  that  showed  the  chamber 
within.  It  was  the  one  in  which  I had  seen 
the  Emperor,  but  his  place  was  now  filled  by 
the  form  of  youth  and  beauty  that  had  crossed 
me  on  my  arrival.  She  was  weeping  bitterly, 
and  reading  with  strong  and  sorrowful  indig- 
nation a long  list  of  names,  probably  one  of 
those  rolls  in  which  Nero  registered  his  in- 


tended victims,  and  which,  in  the  confusion 
of  departure,  he  had  left  open.  A second  glance 
saw  her  tear  the  paper  into  a thousand  frag- 
ments, and  scatter  them  in  the  fountain  that 
gushed  upon  the  floor. 

I left  this  lovely  and  unhappy  creature, 
this  dove  in  the  vulture’s  talons,  with  almost 
a pang.  A few  steps  more  brought  us  into 
the  open  air,  but  among  bowers  that  covered 
our  path  with  darkness.  At  the  extremity 
of  the  gardens  my  guide  struck  with  his  dag- 
ger upon  a door ; it  was  opened ; we  found 
horses  outside ; he  sprang  on  one ; I sprang 
on  its  fellow ; and  palace,  guards,  and  death, 
were  left  far  behind. 

He  galloped  so  furiously  that  I found  it  im- 
possible to  speak;  and  it  was  not  till  we  had 
reached  an  eminence  a few  miles  from  Rome, 
where  we  breathed  our  horses,  that  I could 
ask  to  whom  I had  been  indebted  for  my  es- 
cape. But  I could  not  extract  a word  from 
him.  He  made  signs  of  silence,  and  pointed 
with  wild  anxiety  to  the  scene  that  spread 
below.  It  was  of  a grandeur  and  terror  in- 
describable. Rome  was  an  ocean  of  flame. 

Height  and  depth  were  covered  with  red 
surges,  that  rolled  before  the  blast  like  an 
endless  tide.  The  billows  burst  up  the  sides 
of  the  hills,  which  they  turned  into  instant 
volcanoes,  exploding  volumes  of  smoke  and 
fire;  then  plunged  into  the  depths  in  a hun- 
dred glowing  cataracts,  then  climbed  and 
consumed  again.  The  distant  sound  of  the 
city  in  her  convulsion  went  to  the  soul.  The 
air  was  filled  with  the  steady  roar  of  the  ad- 
vancing flame,  the  crash  of  falling  houses, 
and  the  hideous  outcry  of  the  myriads  flying 
through  the  streets,  or  surrounded  and  perish- 
ing in  the  conflagration. 

Hostile  to  Rome  as  I was,  I could  not  re- 
strain the  exclamation  ; “ There  goes  the  fruit 
of  conquest,  the  glory  of  ages,  the  purchase 
of  the  blood  of  millions  ! Was  vanity  made 
for  man?”  My  guide  continued  looking  for- 
ward with  intense  earnestness,  as  if  he  were 
perplexed  by  what  avenue  to  enter  the  burn- 
ing city.  I demanded  who  he  was,  and  whi- 
ther he  would  lead  me.  He  returned  no  an- 
swer. A long  spire  of  flame  that  shot  up 
from  a hitherto  untouched  quarter  engrossed 
all  his  senses.  He  struck  in  the  spur,  and 
making  a wild  gesture  to  me  to  follow,  darted 
down  the  hill.  I pursued ; we  found  the 
Appian  choked  with  waggons,  baggage  of 
every  kind,  and  terrified  crowds  hurrying 
into  the  open  country.  To  force  a way 
through  them  was  impossible.  All  was 
; clamor,  violent  struggle,  and  helpless  death. 
Men  and  women  of  the  highest  rank  were 
on  foot,  trampled  by  the  rabble,  that  had 
then  lost  all  respect  of  conditions.  One  dense 
mass  of  miserable  life,  irresistible  from  its 
I weight,  crushed  by  the  narrow  streets,  and 


Salathiel. 


scorched  by  the  flames  over  their  heads,  rolled 
through  the  gates  like  an  endless  stream  of 
black  lava. 

We  turned  back,  and  attempted  an  entrance 
through  the  gardens  of  the  same  villas  that 
skirted  the  city  wall  near  the  Palatine.  All 
were  deserted,  and  after  some  dangerous  leaps 
over  the  burning  ruins,  we  found  ourselves 
in  the  streets.  The  fire  had  originally  broken 
out  upon  the  palatine,  and  hot  smoke  that 
wrapped  and  half  blinded  us,  hung  thick  as 
night  upon  the  wrecks  of  pavilions  and  pal- 
aces : but  the  dexterity  and  knowledge  of  my 
inexplicable  guide  carried  us  on.  It  was  in 
vain  that  I insisted  upon  knowing  the  purpose 
of  this  terrible  traverse.  He  pressed  his  hand 
on  his  heart  in  re-assurance  of  his  fidelity, 
and  still  spurred  on. 

We  now  passed  under  the  shade  of  an  im- 
mense range  of  lofty  buildings,  whose  gloomy 
and  solid  strength  seemed  to  bid  defiance  to 
chance  and  time.  A sudden  yell  appalled 
me.  A ring  of  fire  swept  round  its  summit; 
burning  cordage,  sheets  of  canvass,  and  a 
shower  of  all  things  combustible,  flew  into 
the  air  above  our  heads.  An  uproar  followed, 
unlike  all  that  I had  ever  heard,  a hideous 
mixture  of  howls,  shrieks,  and  groans.  The 
flames  rolled  down  the  narrow  street  before 
us,  and  made  the  passage  next  to  impossible. 
While  we  hesitated,  a huge  fragment  of  the 
building  heaved,  as  if  in  an  earthquake,  and 
fortunately  for  us  fell  inwards.  The  whole 
scene  of  terror  was  then  open.  The  great 
amphitheatre  of  Statilius  Taurus  had  caught 
fire ; the  stage  with  its  inflammable  furniture 
was  intensely  blazing  below.  The  flames 
were  wheeling  up,  circle  above  circle,  through 
the  seventy  thousand  seats  that  rose  from  the 
ground  to  the  roof.  I stood  in  unspeakable 
awe  and  wonder  on  the  side  of  this  colossal 
cavern,  this  mighty  temple  of  the  city  of  fire. 
At  length  a descending  blast  cleared  away 
the  smoke  that  covered  the  arena.  The  cause 
of  those  horrid  cries  was  now  visible.  The 
wild  beasts  kept  for  the  games  had  broke  from 
their  dens.  Maddened  by  affright  and  pain, 
lions,  tigers,  panthers,  wolves,  whole  herds  of 
the  monsters  of  India  and  Africa  were  en- 
closed in  an  impassable  barrier  of  fire.  They 
bounded,  they  fought,  they  screamed,  they 
tore ; they  ran  howling  round  and  round  the 
circle ; they  made  desperate  leaps  upwards 
through  the  blaze ; they  were  flung  back,  and 
fell  only  to  fasten  fheir  fangs  in  each  other, 
and  with  their  parching  jaws  bathed  in  blood, 
die  raging. 

I looked  anxiously  to  see  whether  any  hu- 
man being  was  involved  in  this  fearful  catas- 
trophe. To  my  great  relief,  I could  see  none. 
The  keepers  and  attendants  had  obviously 
escaped.  As  I expressed  my  gladness,  I was 
i startled  by  a loud  cry  from  my  guide,  the  first 


sound  that  I had  heard  him  utter.  He  pointed 
to  the  opposite  side  of  the  amphitheatre. — 
There  indeed  sat  an  object  of  melancholy  in- 
terest ; a man  who  had  either  been  unable  to 
escape,  or  had  determined  to  die.  Escape 
was  now  impossible.  He  sat  in  desperate 
calmness  on  his  funeral  pile.  He  was  a gi- 
gantic Ethiopian  slave,  entirely  naked.  He 
had  chosen  his  place  as  if  in  mockery  on  the 
imperial  throne ; the  fire  was  above  him  and 
around  him  ; and  under  this  tremendous  can- 
opy he  gazed,  without  the  movement  of  a mus- 
cle, on  the  combat  of  the  wild  beasts  below; 
a solitary  sovereign  with  the  whole  tremen- 
dous game  played  for  himself,  and  inaccessible 
to  the  power  of  man. 

I was  forced  away  from  this  absorbing  spec- 
tacle ; and  we  once  more  threaded  the  long 
and  intricate  streets  of  Rome.  As  we  ap- 
proached the  end  of  one  of  those  bewildering 
passages,  scarcely  wide  enough  for  us  to  ride 
abreast,  I was  startled  by  the  sudden  illumi- 
nation of  the  sky  immediately  above;  and 
rendered  cautious  by  the  experience  of  our 
hazards,  called  to  my  companion  to  return. — 
He  pointed  behind  me,  and  showed  the  fire 
bursting  out  in  the  houses  by  which  we  had 
just  galloped.  I followed  on.  A crowd  that 
poured  from  the  adjoining  streets  cut  off  our 
retreat.  Hundreds  rapidly  mounted  on  the 
houses  in  front,  in  the  hope  by  throwing  them 
down  tocheck  the  conflagration.  The  obstacle 
once  removed,  we  saw  the  source  of  the  light 
— spectacle  of  horror ! The  great  prison  of 
Rome  was  on  fire.  Never  can  I forget  the 
sights  and  sounds — the  dismay — the  hopeless 
agony — the  fury  and  frenzy  that  then  over- 
whelmed the  heart.  The  jailors  had  been 
forced  to  fly  before  they  could  loose  the  fet- 
ters, or  open  the  cells  of  the  prisoners.  We 
saw  those  gaunt  and  wo- begone  wretches 
crowding  to  their  casements,  and  imploring 
impossible  help;  clinging  to  the  heated  bars; 
toiling  with  their  impotent  grasp  to  tear  out 
the  massive  stones ; some  wringing  their 
hands ; some  calling  on  the  terrified  specta- 
tors by  every  name  of  humanity  to  save  them  ; 
some  venting  their  despair  in  execrations  and 
blasphemies  that  made  the  blood  run  cold ; 
others,  after  many  a wild  effort  to  break  loose, 
dashing  their  heads  against  the  walls,  or  stab- 
bing themselves.  The  people  gave  them 
outcry  for  outcry;  but  the  flame  forbade  ap- 
proach. Before  I could  extricate  myself  from 
the  multitude,  a whirl  of  fiery  ashes  shot  up- 
wards from  the  falling  roof;  the  walls  rent 
into  a thousand  fragments ; and  the  huge  pri- 
son, with  all  its  miserable  inmates,  wTas  a heap 
of  red  embers. 

Exhausted  as  I was  by  this  restless  fatigue, 
and  yet  more  by  the  melancholy  sights  that 
surrounded  every  step,  no  fatigue  seemed  to 
be  felt  by  the  singular  being  that  governed 


Salalhiel. 


my  movements.  He  sprang-  through  the  burn- 
ing ruins — he  plunged  into  the  sulphurous 
smoke — he  never  lost  the  direction  that  he  had 
first  taken ; and  though  baffled  and  forced  to 
turn  back  a hundred  times,  he  again  rushed 
on  his  track  with  the  directness  of  an  arrow. 
For  me  to  make  my  way  back  to  the  gates, 
would  be  even  more  difficult  than  to  push  for- 
ward. My  ultimate  safety  might  be  in  follow- 
ing, and  I followed.  To  stand  still,  and  to 
move,  were  equally  perilous.  The  streets, 
even  with  the  improvements  of  Augustus* 
were  still  scarcely  wider  than  the  breadth  of 
the  little  Italian  carts  that  crowded  them. — 
They  were  crooked,  long,  and  obstructed  by 
every  impediment  of  a city  built  in  haste,  af- 
ter the  burning  by  the  Gauls,  and  with  no 
other  plan  than  the  caprice  of  its  hurried  ten- 
antry. The  houses  were  of  immense  height, 
chiefly  wood,  many  roofed  with  thatch,  and 
all  covered  or  cemented  with  pitch.  The 
true  surprise  is,  that  it  had  not  been  burned 
once  a year  from  the  time  of  its  building. 

The  memory  of  Nero,  that  hereditary  con- 
centration of  vice,  of  whose  ancestor’s  yellow 
beard  the  Roman  orator  said,  “ No  wonder 
that  his  beard  was  brass,  when  his  mouth  was 
iron  and  his  heart  lead,”  the  parricide  and  the 
prisoner,  may  yet  be  fairly  exonerated  of  an 
act  which  might  have  been  the  deed  of  a 
drunken  mendicant  in  any  of  the  fifty  thou- 
sand hovels  of  this  gigantic  aggregate  of  every 
thing  that  could  turn  to  flame. 

We  passed  along  through  all  the  horrid 
varieties  of  misery,  guilt,  and  riot,  that  could 
find  their  place  in  a great  public  calamity : 
groups  gazing  in  woe  on  the  wreck  of  their 
fortunes,  rushing  off  to  the  winds  in  vapor 
and  fire;  groups  plundering  in  the  midst  of 
the  flame ; groups  of  rioters,  escaped  felons, 
and  murderers,  exulting  in  the  public  ruin, 
and  dancing  and  drinking  with  Bacchanalian 
uproar  : gangs  of  robbers  trampling  down  and 
stabbing  the  fugitives  to  strip  them  of  their 
last  means ; revenge,  avarice,  despair,  profli- 
gacy, let  loose  naked  ; undisguised  demons,  to 
swell  the  wretchedness  of  this  tremendous  in- 
fliction upon  a guilty  and  blood-covered  empire. 

Still  we  spurred  on,  but  our  jaded  horses  at 
length  sank  under  us;  and  leaving  them  to 
find  their  way  into  the  fields,  we  struggled 
forward  on  foot.  The  air  h-ad  hitherto  been 
calm,  but  now  gusts  began  to  rise,  thunder 
growled,  and  the  signs  of  tempest  thickened 
on.  We  gained  an  untouched  quarter  of  the 
city,  and  had  explored  our  weary  passage  up 
to  the  gates  of  a large  patrician  palace,  when 
we  were  startled  by  a broad  sheet  of  flame 
rushing  through  the  sky.  The  storm  was 
come  in  its  rage.  The  range  of  public  mag- 
azines of  wood,  cordage,  tar,  and  oil,  in  the 
valley  between  the  Ccelian  and  Palatine  hills, 
had  at  length  been  involved  in  the  conflagra- 


tion. All  that  we  had  seen  before  was  dark- 
ness to  the  fierce  splendor  of  this  burning. — 
The  tempest  tore  off  the  roofs,  and  swept  them 
like  floating  islands  of  fire  through  the  sky. 
The  most  distant  quarters  on  which  they  fell 
were  instantly  wrapped  in  flame.  One  broad 
mass,  whirling  from  an  immense  height,  broke 
upon  the  palace  before  us.  A cry  of  terror 
was  heard  within;  the  gates  were  flung  open, 
and  a crowd  of  domestics  arid  persons  of 
both  sexes,  attired  for  a banquet,  poured  out 
into  the  streets.  The  palace  was  wrapt  in 
flame.  My  guide  then  for  the  first  time  lost 
his  self-possession.  He  staggered  towards 
me  with  the  appearance  of  a man  who  had 
received  a spear-head  in  his  bosom.  I caught 
him  before  he  fell;  but  his  head  sank,  his  knees 
bent  under  him,  and  his  white  lips  quivered 
with  unintelligible  sounds,  I could  distinguish 
only  the  words — “gone,  gone  for  ever!” 

The  flame  had  already  seized  upon  the 
principal  floors  of  the  palace;  and  the  volumes 
of  smoke  that  poured  through  eveiy  window 
and  entrance,  rendered  the  attempt  to  save 
those  still  within,  a work  of  extreme  hazard. 
But  ladders  were  rapidly  placed,  ropes  were 
flung,  and  the  activity  of  the  attendants  and 
retainers  was  boldly  exerted,  till  all  were 
presumed  to  have  been  saved,  and  the  build- 
ing was  left  to  burn. 

My  overwhelmed  guide  was  lying  on  the 
ground,  when  a sudden  scream  was  heard, 
and  a figure,  in  the  robes  and  with  the  rosy 
crown  of  the  banquet,  strange  contrast  to  her 
fearful  situation,  was  seen  flying  from  window 
to  window  in  the  upper  pait  of  the  mansion. 
It  was  supposed  that  she  had  fainted  in  the 
first  terror,  and  been  forgotten.  The  height, 
the  fierceness  of  the  flame  which  now  com- 
pletely mastered  resistance,  the  volumes  of 
smoke  that  suffocated  every  man  who  ap- 
proached, made  the  chance  of  saving  this  un- 
fortunate being  utterly  desperate  in  the  opin- 
ion of  the  multitude. 

My  spirit  shuddered  at  the  horrors  of  this 
desertion.  I looked  round  at  my  companion; 
he  was  kneeling,  in  helpless  agony,  with  his 
hands  lifted  up  to  heaven.  Another  scream, 
wilder  than  ever,  pierced  my  senses.  I seized 
an  axe  from  one  of  the  domestics,  caught  a 
ladder  from  another,  and  in  a paroxysm  of 
hope,  fear,  and  pity,  scaled  the  burning  wall. 
A shout  from  below  followed  me.  I entered 
at  the  first  window  that  I could  reach.  All 
before  me  was  cloud.  I rushed  on,  struggled, 
stumbled  over  furniture  and  fragments  of  all 
kinds,  fell,  rose  again,  found  myself  trampling 
upon  precious  things,  plate  and  crystal,  and 
still,  axe  in  hand,  forced  my  way.  I at  length 
reached  the  banqueting-room.  The  figure 
had  vanished.  A strange  superstition  of 
childhood,  a thought  that  I might  have  been 
lured  by  some  spirit  of  evil  into  the  place  of 


Salathiel. 


59 


ruin,  suddenly  came  over  me.  I stopped  to 
gather  my  faculties.  I leaned  against  one  of 
the  pillars  ; it  was  hot ; the  floor  shook  and 
crackled  under  my  tread,  the  walls  heaved, 
the  flame  hissed  below,  and  over  head  roared 
the  whirlwind,  and  burst  the  thunder-peal. 

My  brain  was  fevered.  The  immense 
golden  lamps  still  burning;  the  long  tables 
disordered,  yet  glittering  with  the  costly  or- 
naments of  patrician  luxury ; the  scattered 
Tyrian  couches ; the  scarlet  canopy  that  cov- 
ered the  whole  range  of  the  tables,  and  gave 
the  hall  the  aspect  of  an  imperial  pavilion, 
partially  torn  down  in  the  confusion  of  the 
flight,  all  assumed  to  me  a horrid  and  bewil- 
dered splendor.  The  smokes  were  already 
rising  through  the  crevices  of  the  floor  ; the 
smell  of  flame  was  on  my  robes;  a huge  vol- 
ume of  yellow  vapor  slowly  wreathed  and 
arched  round  the  chair  at  the  head  of  the 
banquet.  I could  have  imagined  a fearful 
lord  of  the  feast  under  that  cloudy  veil ! 
Every  thing  round  me  was  marked  with  pre- 
ternatural fear,  magnificence,  and  ruin. 

A low  groan  broke  my  reverie.  I heard 
the  voice  of  one  in  despair.  I heard  the 
broken  words,  “ Oh,  bitter  fruits  of  disobe- 
dience!— Oh,  my  mother,  shall  I never  see 
your  face  again  1 — For  one  crime  I am  doom- 
ed.— Eternal  mercy,  let  my  crime  be  washed 
away — let  my  spirit  ascend  pure. — Farewell, 
mother,  sister,  father,  husband!”  With  the 
last  word  I heard  a fall,  as  if  the  spirit  had 
left  the  body. 

I sprang  towards  the  sound  : I met  but  the 
solid  wall.  “ Horrible  illusion,”  I cried — “ am 
I mad,  or  the  victim  of  the  powers  of  dark- 
ness!” I tore  away  the  hangings — a door 
was  before  me.  I burst  it  through  with  a 
blow  of  the  axe,  and  saw  stretched  on  the 
floor  and  insensible — Salome ! 

I caught  my  child  in  my  arms ; I bathed 
her  forehead  with  my  tears  ; I besought  her 
to  look  up,  to  give  some  sign  of  life,  to  hear1 
the  full  forgiveness  of  my  breaking  heart.  I 


She  looked  not,  answered  not,  breathed  not. 
To  make  a last  effort  for  her  life,  I carried 
her  into  the  banquet-room.  But  the  fire 
had  forced  its  way  there ; the  wind  bursting 
in,  had  carried  the  flame  through  the  loner 
galleries ; and  flashes  and  spires  of  lurid 
light  already  darting  through  the  doors, 
gave  fearful  evidence  that  the  last  stone 
of  the  palace  must  soon  go  down. 

I bore  my  unhappy  daughter  towards 
the  window;  but  the  height  was  deadly, 
no  gesture  could  be  seen  through  the  piles 
of  smoke,  the  help  of  man  was  in  vain. 
To  my  increased  misery,  the  current  j)f  air 
revived  Salome,  at  the  instant  when  I 
hoped  that  by  insensibility  she  would  escape 
the  final  pang.  She  breathed,  stood,  and, 
opening  her  eyes,  fixed  on  me  the  vacant 
stare  of  one  scarcely  aroused  from  sleep. 
Still  clasped  in  my  arms,  she  gazed  again ; 
but  my  wild  face  covered  with  dust,  my 
half-burnt  hair,  the  axe  gleaming  in  my 
hand,  terrified  her ; she  uttered  a scream, 
and  darted  away  from  me  headlong  into 
the  centre  of  the  burning. 

I rushed  after  her,  calling  on  her  name. 
A column  of  fire  shot  up  between  us;  I 
felt  the  floor  sink ; all  was  then  suffocation 
— I struggled,  and  fell. 


CHAPTER  XX. 


I awoke  with  a sensation  of  pain  in 
every  limb.  A female  voice  was  singing 
a faint  song  near  me.  But  the  past  was 
like  a dream.  I involuntarily  looked  down 
for  the  gulf  on  which  I had  trod — I looked 
upward  for  the  burning  rafters.  1 saw 
nothing  but  an  earthern  floor,  and  a low 


60 


Salat  Kiel. 


roof  hung  with  dried  grapes  and  herbs.  I 
uttered  a cry.  The  singer  approached  me. 
But  there  was  nothing  in  her  aspect  to 
nurture  a diseased  imagination ; she  was 
an  old  and  ( emaciated  creature,  who  yet 
benevolently  rejoiced  in  my  restoration. 
She  in  turn,  called  her  husband,  a venerable 
Jew,  whose  first  act  was  to  offer  thanks- 
giving to  the  God  of  Israel,  for  the  safety  of 
a chief  of  his  nation. 

But  to  my  inquiries  for  the  fate  of  my 
child,  he  could  give  no  answer ; he  had 
discovered  me  among  the  ruins  of  the  palace 
of  the  ^Emilii,  to  which  he  with  many  of 
his  countrymen  had  been  attracted  with 
the  object  of  collecting  whatever  remnants 
of  furniture  might  be  left  by  the  flames.  I 
had  fallen  by  the  edge  of  a fountain  which 
extinguished  the  fire  in  its  vicinage,  and 
was  found  breathing.  During  three  days 
I had  lain  insensible.  The  Jew  now  went, 
out,  and  brought  back  with  him  some  of  the 
elders  of  our  people,  who,  after  the  decree 
of  the  Emperor  Claudius,  remained  in  Rome, 
though  in  increased  privacy.  I was  carried 
to  their  house  of  assemblage,  concealed 
among  groves  and  vineyards  beyond  the 
gates ; and  attended  to  with  a care  which 
might  cure  all  things  but  the  wounds  of  the 
mind.  On  the  great  object  of  my  solicitude, 
the  fate  of  my  Salome,  I could  obtain  no 
relief.  I wandered  over  the  site  of  the 
palace,  it  was  now  a mass  of  ashes  and 
charcoal ; its  ruins  had  been  probed  by 
hundreds:  but  search  for  even  a trace  of 
what  would  have  been  to  me  dearer  than 
a mountain  of  gold  was  in  vain. 

The  conflagration  continued  six  days ; 
and  every  day  of  the  number  gave  birth  to 
some  monstrous  Teport  of  its  origin.  Of 
the  fourteen  districts  of  Rome,  but  four 
remained.  Thousands  had  lost  their  lives, 
tens  of  thousands  were  utterly  undone.  The 
whole  empire  shook  under  the  blow.  Then 
came  the  still  deeper  horror. 

Fear  makes  the  individual  feeble,  but  it 


makes  the  multitude  ferocious.  An  uni- 
versal cry  arose  for  revenge.  Great  pub- 
lic misfortunes  give  the  opportunity  that 
the  passions  of  men  and  sects  love ; and 
the  fiercest  sacrifices  of  selfishness  are  justi- 
fied under  the  name  of  retribution. 

But  the  full  storm  burst  on  the  Christians, 
then  too  new  to  have  fortified  themselves 
in  the  national  prejudices,  if  they  would 
have  suffered  the  alliance;  too' poor  to 
recken  any  powerful  protectors ; and  too 
uncompromising  to  palliate  their  scorn  of 
the  whole  public  system  of  morals,  philoso- 
phy, and  religion.  The  emperor,  the  priest- 
hood, and  the  populace,  conspired  against 
them,  and  they  were  ordered  to  the  slaugh- 
ter. I too  had  my  stimulants  to  hatred. 
Where  was  II  in  exile,  in  desperate  haz- 
ard ; — I had  been  torn  from  home,  robbed 
of  my  child,  made  miserable  by  the  fear 
of  apostacy  in  my  house ; and  by  whom 
was  this  comprehensive  evil  done?  The 
name  of  Christian  was  gall  to  me.  I heard 
of  the  popular  vengeance,  and  called  it 
justice ; I saw  the  distant  fires  in  which 
the  Christians  were  consuming,  and  calcu- 
lated how  many  each  night  of  those  horrors 
would  abstract  from  the  guilty  number. 
Man  becomes  cruel,  by  the  sight  of  cruelty  ; 
and  when  thousands  and  hundreds  of  thou- 
sands were  shouting  for  vengeance,  when 
every  face  looked  fury,  and  every  tongue 
was  wild  with  some  new  accusation,  when 
the  great,  the  little,  the  philosopher,  the 
ignorant,  raised  up  one  roar  of  reprobation 
against  the  Christians,  was  the  solitary 
man  of  mercy  to  be  looked  for  in  one  bleed- 
ing from  head  to  foot  with  wrongs  irre- 
parable ? 

During  one  of  those  dreadful  nights,  I 
was  gazing  from  the  house-top  on  the 
fire  forcing  its  way  through  the  remain- 
ing quarters;  the  melancholy  gleams 
through  the  country,  showing  the  extent 
of  the  flight;  and  in  the  midst  of  the 
blackened  and  dreary  wastes  of  Rome, 
the  spots  of  livid  flame  where  Chris- 


Salathiel. 


61 


tians  were  perishing  at  the  pile ; when  I was 
summoned  to  a consultation  below.  One  of 
our  people  had  returned  with  an  imperial 
edict  proclaiming  pardon  of  all  offences  to  the 
discoverer  of  Christians.  I would  not  have 
purchased  my  life  by  the  life  of  a dog.  But 
my  safety  was  important  to  the  Jewish  cause, 
and  I was  pressed  on  every  side  by  arguments 
on  the  wisdom,  nay,  the  public  duty  of  accept- 
ing freedom  on  any  terms.  And  what  was 
to  be  the  price  1 the  life  of  criminals  long 
obnoxious  to  the  laws,  and  now  stained  be- 
yond mercy.  I loathed  delay;  I loathed 
Rome;  I was  wild  to  return  to  the  great 
cause  of  my  country,  which  never  could  have 
a fairer  hope  than  now.  An  emissary  was 
sent  out ; money  soon  effected  the  discovery 
of  a Christian  assemblage : I appeared  before 
the  praetor  with  my  documents,  and  brought 
back  in  my  hand  the  imperial  pardon,  given 
with  a greater  good-will,  as  the  assemblage 
chanced  to  comprehend  the  chiefs  of  the  her- 
esy. They  were  seized,  ordered  forthwith 
to  the  pile,  and  I was  ordered  to  be  present 
at  this  completion  of  my  national  service. 
The  executions  were  in  the  gardens  of  the 
imperial  palace,  which  had  been  thrown  open 
by  Nero,  for  the  double  purpose  of  popularity, 
and  of  indulging  himself  with  the  display  of 
death  at  the  slightest  personal  inconvenience. 
The  crowd  was  prodigious,  and  to  gratify  the 
greatest  possible  number  at  once,  those  mur- 
ders were  carried  on  in  different  parts  of  the 
garden.  In  the  vineyard,  a certain,  portion 
were  to  be  crucified ; in  the  orangery,  an- 
other portion  were  to  burnt;  in  the  pleasure- 
ground,  another  were  to  be  torn  by  lions  and 
tigers ; gladiators  were  to  be  let  loose ; and 
when  the  dusk  came  on,  the  whole  of  the 
space  was  to  be  lighted  by  human  torches, 
Christians  wrapped  in  folds  of  linen  covered 
with  pitch  and  bitumen,  and  thus  burning 
down  from  the  head  to  the  ground.  I was 
horror-struck ; but  escape  was  impossible,  and 
1 must  go  through  the  whole  hideous  round. 
With  my  flesh  quivering,  my  ears  ringing, 
my  eyes  dim,  I was  forced  to  see  miserable 
beings,  men,  nay,  women,  nay,  infants,  sewed 
rap  in  skins  of  beasts,  hunted  and  torn  to 
pieces  by  dogs ; old  men,  whose  hoary  liairs 
might  have  demanded  reverence  of  savages, 
scourged,  racked,  and  nailed  to  the  trees  to 
die ; lovely  young  females,  creatures  of  guile- 
less hearts  and  innocent  beauty,  flung  on 
flaming  scaffolds.  And  this  was  the  work  of 
man,  civilized  man,  in  the  highest  civiliza- 
tion of  the  arts,  the  manners,  and  the  learn- 
ing of  the  ancient  world. 

But  the  grand  display  was  prepared  for  the 
time  when  those  Christians,  who  had  been 
denounced  on  my  discovery,  were  to  be  exe- 
cuted ; an  exhibition  at  which  the  emperor 
himself  testified  his  intention  to  be  present. 

C*  5 


The  great  Circus  was  no  more ; but  a tem- 
porary amphitheatre  of  the  turf  had  been 
erected,  in  which  the  usual  games  were  ex- 
hibited during  the  early  part  of  the  day.  At 
the  hour  of  my  arrival,  the  low  bank  circling 
this  immense  inclosure,  was  filled  with  the 
first  names  of  Rome,  knights,  patricians,  sen- 
ators, military  tribunes,  consuls;  the  emperor 
alone  was  wanting  to  complete  the  represen- 
tative majesty  of  the  empire.  I was  to  form 
a part  of  the  ceremony,  and  the  guard  who 
had  me  in  charge  cleared  the  way  to  a con- 
spicuous place,  where  my  national  dress  fixed 
every  eye  on  me.  Several  Christians  had 
perished  before  my  arrival.  Their  remains 
lay  on  the  ground,  and  in  their  midst  stood 
the  man  who  was  to  be  tke  next  victim.  By 
what  influence  I know  not,  but  never  did  I 
see  a human  being  that  made  on  me  so  deep 
an  impression.  I have  him  before  me  at  this 
instant.  I see  the  figure,  low,  yet  with  an 
air  of  nobleness;  stooped  a little  with  vener- 
able age ; but  the  countenance,  full  of  life, 
and  marked  with  all  the  traits  of  intellectual 
power,  the  nose  strongly  aquiline,  the  bold 
lip,  the  large  and  rapid  eye ; the  whole  man 
conveying  the  idea  of  an  extraordinary  per- 
manence of  early  vigor,  under  the  weight  of 
years.  Even  the  hair  was  thick  and  black, 
with  scarcely  a touch  of  silver.  If  the  place 
and  time  were  Athens,  and  the  era  of  De- 
mosthenes, I should  have  said  that  Demos- 
thenes stood  before  me.  The  vivid  counte- 
nance and  manner;  the  flashing  rapidity  with 
which  he  seized  a new  idea,  and  compressed 
it  to  his  purpose;  the  impetuous  argument 
that,  throwing  off  the  formality  of  logic, 
smote  with  the  strength  of  a new  fact,  were 
Demosthenaic.  Even  a certain  infirmity  of 
utterance,  and  an  occasional  slight  difficulty 
of  words,  added  to  the  likeness;  but  there 
was  a hallowed  glance,  and  a solemn,  yet 
tender  reach  of  thought,  interposed  among 
those  intense  appeals,  that  asserted  the  sa- 
cred superiority  of  the  subject  and  the  man. 

He  was  already  speaking  w'hen  I reached 
the  Circus;  and  1 can  give  but  an  outline  of 
his  language. 

He  pointed  to  the  headless  bodies  around 
him. 

“For  what  have  these,  my  brethren,  died  I 
Answer  me,  priests  of  Rome ; what  temple 
did  they  force— w hat  altar  overthrow — what 
insults  offer  to  the  slightest  of  your  public  cele- 
brations! Judges  of  Rome,  what  offence  did 
they  commit  against  the  public  peace!  Con- 
suls, where  were  they  found  in  rebellion 
against  the  Roman  majesty ! People!  patri- 
cians ! who  among  your  thousands  can  charge 
one  of  these  holy  dead  with  extortion,  impu- 
rity, or  violence ; can  charge  them  with  any 
thing,  but  the  patience  that  bore  wrong  with- 


62 


i 


Salathiel. 


out  a murmur,  and  the  charity  that  answered 
tortures  only  by  prayers'!” 

He  then  touched  upon  the  nature  of  his 
faith. 

“ Do  I stand  here  demanding  to  be  believ- 
ed for  opinions!  No;  but  for  facts.  I have 
seen  the  sick  made  whole,  the  lame  walk, 
the  blind  receive  their  sight,  by  the  mere 
name  of  Him  whom  you  crucified.  I have 
seen  men  once  ignorant  of  all  languages  but 
their  own,  speaking  with  the  language  of 
every  nation  under  heaven — the  still  greater 
wonder,  of  the  timid  defying  all  fear — the  un- 
learned instantly  made  wise  in  the  mysteries 
of  things  divine  and  human — putting  to  shame 
the  learned — aweing  the  proud — enlighten- 
ing the  darkened  ; alike  in  the  courts  of  kings, 
before  the  furious  people,  and  in  the  dungeon, 
armed  with  an  irrepressible  spirit  of  know- 
ledge, reason,  and  truth,  that  confounded  their 
adversaries.  I have  seen  the  still  greater 
wonder,  of  the  renewed  heart;  the  impure 
suddenly  abjuring  vice;  the  covetous,  the 
cruel,  the  faithless,  the  godless,  gloriously 
changed  into  the  holy,  the  gentle,  the  faith- 
ful, the  worshiper  of  the  true  God  in  spirit 
and  in  truth ; the  conquest  of  the  passions 
which  defied  your  philosophers,  your  tribu- 
nals, your  rewards,  your  terrors,  achieved  in 
the  one  mighty  name.  Those  are  facts,  things 
which  I have  seen ; and  who  that  had  seen 
them  could  doubt  that  the  finger  of  the  eter- 
nal God  was  there ! I dared  not  refuse  my 
belief  to  the  divine  mission  of  the  being  by 
whom,  and  even  in  memory  of  whom,  things 
baffling  the  proudest  human  means  were 
wrought  before  my  eyes.  Thus  irresistibly 
compelled  by  facts  to  believe  that  Christ  was 
sent  by  God ; I was  with  equal  force  com- 
pelled to  believe  in  the  doctrines  declared  by 
this  glorious  Messenger  of  the  Father  alike 
of  quick  and  dead.  And  thus  I stand  before 
you  this  day,  at  the  close  of  a long  life  of  la- 
bor and  hazard,  a Christian.” 

This  appeal  to  the  understanding,  divested 
as  it  was  of  all  ornament  and  oratorical  dis- 
play, was  listened  to  by  the  immense  multi- 
tude with  the  most  unbroken  interest.  It 
was  delivered  with  the  strong  simplicity  of 
conviction.  He  then  spoke  of  the  Founder 
of  his  faith. 

“ Men  may  be  mad  for  opinions.  But  who 
can  be  mad  for  facts!  The  coming  of  Christ 
was  prophesied  a thousand  years  before !” 

“ From  the  beginning  of  his  ministry  he 
lived  wholly  before  the  eyes  of  mankind.  His 
life  corresponds  with  the  prophecies  in  a mul- 
titude of  circumstances  which  must  have  been 
totally  beyond  human  power.  The  virgin 
mother,  the  village  in  which  he  was  born,  the 
lowliness  of  his  cradle,  the  worship  paid  to 
him  there,  the  hazard  of  his  life — all  were 
predicted.  Could  the  infant  have  shaped  the 


(accomplishment  of  these  predictions? — The 
death  that  he  should  die,  the  hands  by  which 
it  was  to  be  inflicted,  even  the  draught  that 
he  should  drink,  and  the  raiment  that  he 
should  be  clothed  in,  and  the  sepulchre  in 
which  he  should  be  laid,  were  predicted. — 
Could  the  man  have  shaped  their  accomplish- 
ment!— The  time  of  his  resting  in  the  tomb; 
his  resurrection ; his  ascent  to  heaven ; the 
sending  of  the  Holy  Spirit  after  he  was  gone ; 
all  were  predicted ; all  were  beyond  human 
collusion,  human  power,  or  human  thought, 
and  all  were  accomplished  !” 

“Those  things  were  universally  known  to 
the  nation  most  competent  to  detect  collusion. 
Did  Christ  come  to  Rome,  where  every  new 
religion  finds  adherents,  and  where  all  pre- 
tensions might  be  advanced  without  fear; 
where  a deceiver  might  have  quoted  prophe- 
cies that  never  existed,  and  vaunted  of  won- 
ders done  where  there  was  no  eye  to  detect 
them?  No!  his  life  was  spent  in  Judea, per- 
haps for  the  express  purpose  of  adding  to  his 
mercy  and  long-suffering,  the  most  unanswer- 
able proofs  of  his  divine  mission.  He  made 
his  appeal  to  the  Scriptures,  m a country 
where  they  were  in  the  hands  of  the  people. 
His  miracles  were  wrought  before  the  eyes 
of  a priesthood  that  watched  him  step  by  step; 
his  doctrines  were  spoken,  not  to  a careless 
and  mingled  multitude,  holding  a thousand 
varieties  of  opinion,  but  to  an  exclusive  race, 
subtle  in  their  inquiries,  eager  in  their  zeal, 
and  proud  of  their  peculiar  possession  of  di- 
vine knowledge.” 

“Yet  against  his  life,  his  miracles,  or  his 
doctrine,  what  charge  could  they  bring? — 
None.  There  is  not  a single  stigma  on  the 
purity  of  his  conduct;  the  power  of  his  won- 
der-working control  over  man  and  nature; 
the  holiness,  wisdom,  and  grandeur,  of  his 
views  of  Providence ; the  truth,  charity,  and 
meekness  of  his  counsels  to  man.  Their  sin- 
gle source  of  hatred  was  the  pride  of  worldly 
hearts  that  expected  a king,  where  they  were 
to  have  found  a teacher.  Their  single  charge 
against  him  was  his  prophecy,  that  there 
should  be  an  end  to  their  Temple  and  their 
state  within  the  life  of  man.  They  crucified 
him;  he  died  in  prayer,  that  his  murderers 
might  be  forgiven ; and  his  prayer  was  might- 
ily answered.  He  had  scarcely  risen  to  his 
eternal  throne,  when  thousands  believed,  and 
were  forgiven.  To  Him  be  the  glory,  for 
ever  and  ever !” 

“ Compare  him  with  your  legislators.  He 
gives  the  spirit  of  all  law  in  a single  sentence 
— ‘ Do  unto  others  as  you  would  they  should 
do  unto  you.’  Compare  him  with  your  priest- 
hood. He  gives  a single  significant  rite,  ca- 
pable of  being  extended  to  every  land  and 
every  age,  and  in  them  all  speaking  to  the 
heart;  he  gives  a single  prayei;  containing 


Scilathiel. 


63 


the  substance  of  all  that  man  can  rationally 
implore  of  Heaven.  Compare  him  with  your 
moralists.  He  lays  the  foundation  of  virtue 
in  love  to  God.  Compare  him  with  your 
sages.  He  leads  a life  of  privation  without  a 
murmur ; he  dies  a death  of  shame,  desertion, 
and  agony;  and  his  last  breath  is  sublime 
mercy  ! Compare  him  with  your  conquerors. 
Without  the  shedding  of  a drop  of  blood,  he 
has  already  conquered  hosts  that  would  have 
resisted  all  the  swords  of  earth,  hosts  of  stub- 
born passions,  cherished  vices,  guilty  perver- 
sions of  the  powers  and  faculties  of  man. — 
Look  on  these  glorious  dead,  whom  I shall 
join  before  the  set  of  yonder  sun.  Yes,  mar- 
tyrs of  God ! ye  were  his  conquests ; and  ye 
too,  are  more  than  conquerors,  through  him 
that  loved  us,  and  gave  himself  for  us.  But 
a triumph  shall  come,  magnificent  and  terri- 
ble, when  all  eye?  shaH  behold  him  ; and  the 
tribes  of  the  earth,  even  they  who  pierced 
him,  shall  mourn.” 

“ Then  rejoice,  ye  dead  ! For  ye  shall  rise. 
Ye  shall  be  clothed  with  glory ; ye  shall  be 
as  the  angels,  bright  and  powerful,  immortal, 
intellectual  kings!  ‘For  though  worms  de- 
stroy this  body,  yet  in  my  flesh  shall  I see 
God.’” 

The  sky  was  cloudless ; the  sun  was  in  the 
west,  but  shining  in  his  broadest  beams;  the 
whole  space  before  me  was  flooded  with  his 
light;  when,  as  I gazed  upon  the  martyr,  I 
saw  a gleam  issue  from  his  upturned  face;  it 
increased  to  brightness,  to  strong  radiance,  to 
an  intense  lustre  that  made  the  sunlight  ut- 
terly pale.  All  was  astonishment  in  the  am- 
phitheatre, but  all  was  awe.  The  old  man 
seemed  unconscious  of  the  wonders  that  in- 
vested him.  He  continued  with  his  open 
hands  lifted  up,  and  his  eyes  fixed  on  hea- 
ven. The  glory  spread  over  his  form ; and 
he  stood  before  us,  robed  in  an  effulgence 
which  shot  from  him  like  a living  fount  of 
splendor  round  the  colossal  circle.  Yet  the 
blaze,  though  it  looked  the  very  essence  of 
light,  was  strangely  translucent;  we  could 
see  with  undazzled  eyes  every  feature;  and 
whether  it  was  the  working  of  my  over- 
whelmed mind,  or  a true  change,  the  coun- 
tenance appeared  to  have  passed  at  once  from 
age  to  youth.  A lofty  joy,  a look  of  supernal 
grandeur,  a magnificent,  yet  etherial  beauty, 
had  transformed  the  features  of  the  old  man 
into  the  likeness  of  the  winged  sons  of  Im- 
mortality ! 

He  spoke;  and  the  first  sound  of  his  voice 
thrilled  through  every  bosom,  and  made  every 
man  start  from  his  seat. 

“ Men  and  brethren. — It  is  the  desire  of 
God  that  all  should  be  saved — Jew  and  Gen- 
tile alike;  for  with  him  there  is  no  respect 
of  persons.  He  is  the  Father  of  all ! Chris- 
tianity is  not  a philosophic  dream ; nor  the 


opinion  of  a sect  struggling  to  gain  power 
among  contending  sects ; but  a divine  com- 
mand— the  summons  of  the  God  of  gods  that 
you  should  accept  the  mercy  offered  to  you 
through  the  sacrifice  of  the  Eternal  Son ! — 
the  opening  of  the  gates  of  an  eternal  world ! 
It  is  not  a summons  to  the  practice  of  barren 
virtue,  but  a declaration  of  real  reward, 
mightier  than  the  imagination  of  man  can 
conceive.  It  raises  the  spirit  of  man,  forgiven 
for  the  sake  of  Christ,  into  the  imperishable 
possession  of  an  actual  power,  to  which  the 
ambition  of  earth  is  a vapor;  it  invests  the 
redeemed  with  all  that  can  delight  the  eye, 
or  rejoice  the  heart,  or  elevate  the  under- 
standing. Would  you  be  kings  1 — would  you 
be  glorious  as  the  stars  of  heaven! — would 
you  possess  mighty  faculties  of  happiness,  su- 
premacy, and  knowledge  ? Ask  for  forgive- 
ness of  your  evil  in  the  name  of  Christ;  and 
whether  you  live  or  die,  those  things  shall  be 
yours.  What  is  easier  than  the  price? — what 
more  transcendant  than  the  reward  ? Who 
shall  tell  the  limit  of  the  risen  Spirit?  Over 
what  worlds,  or  worlds  of  worlds,  he  may  be 
sovereign  ! What  resistless  strength — what 
more  than  regal  majesty — what  celestial 
beauty — may  be  in  his  frame  ! — What  expan- 
sion of  intellect — what  everflowing  tides  of 
new  sensation — what  shapes  of  glory  and 
loveliness — what  radiant  stores  of  thought, 
and  mysteries  of  exhaustless  knowledge,  may 
be  treasured  for  him ! What  endless  ascent 
through  new  ranks  of  being,  each  as  much 
more  glorious  than  the  last  as  the  risen  spirit 
is  above  man ! — For  what  can  be  the  bound 
to  the  exaltation  of  the  fellow-heirs  with 
Christ,  for  whom  the  Eternal  stooped  to  suf- 
fer upon  the  cross,  and  for  whom  he  rose 
again  to  his  throne,  their  leader  in  trial,  their 
leader  in  triumph ! Omnipotence  for  their 
protector,  their  friend,  their  father!  He  who 
gave  to  us  his  own  Son,  will  he  not  with  him 
give  us  all  things?” 

“ King  of  kings ! if  through  a long  life  I 
have  labored  in  thy  cause,  in  perils  of  wa- 
ters, in  perils  of  robbers,  in  perils  by  mine 
own  countrymen,  in  perils  by  the  heathen,  in 
perils  in  the  city,  in  perils  in  the  wilderness, 
in  perils  in  the  sea,  in  perils  among  false 
brethren,  in  weariness  and  painfulness,  in 
watchings  often,  in  hunger  and  thirst,  in  cold 
and  nakedness;  thine  alone  be  the  praise, 
thine  the  glory,  who  hast  brought  me  through 
them  all  with  a strong  hand  and  an  outstretch- 
ed arm.  Now,  Lord ! thou  who  shalt  change 
my  vile  body  into  the  likeness  of  thy  glorious 
body,  be  with  thy  servant  in  this  last  hour ! 
Lord,  receive  my  spirit ; that  where  thou  art, 
even  I may  be  with  thee !” 

He  was  silent ; the  splendor  gradually  pass- 
ed away  from  his  form.  He  knelt  upon  the 


64 


Salathiel. 


sand,  bowing  down  his  neck  to  receive  the 
blow. 

But  to  lift  a hand  against  such  a being 
seemed  an  act  of  profanation.  The  axe-bear- 
er dared  not  approach.  The  spectators  sat 
hushed  in  involuntary  homage.  Not  a word, 
not  a gesture,  broke  the  silence  of  veneration. 
At  length  a flourish  of  distant  horns  and  trum- 
pets was  heard.  Cavalry  galloped  forward, 
announcing  the  emperor;  and  Nero,  habited 
as  a triumphant  charioteer,  drove  his  gilded 
car  into  the  arena.  The  Christian  had  risen ; 
and  with  his  hands  clasped  on  his  breast,  was 
awaiting  death.  Nero  cast  the  headsman  an 
execration  at  his  tardiness;  the  axe  swept 
round ; and  when  I glanced  again,  the  old 
man  lay  beside  his  brethren  ! 

This  man  I had  sacrificed.  My  heart  smote 
me ; I would  have  fled  the  place  of  blood,  but 
more  of  my  victims  were  to  be  slain;  and  I 
must  be  the  shrinking  witness  of  all. 

The  emperor’s  arrival  commenced  the 
grand  display.  He  took  his  place  under  the 
curtains  of  the  royal  pavilion.  The  dead 
were  removed ; perfumes  were  scattered 
through  the  air;  rose-water  was  sprinkled 
from  silver  tubes  upon  the  exhausted  multi- 
tude; music  resounded;  incense  burned  ; and, 
in  the  midst  of  those  preparations  of  luxury, 
the  terrors  cf  the  lion  combat  began. 

A portal  of  the  arena  opened,  and  the  com- 
batant, with  a mantle  thrown  over  his  face 
and  figure,  was  led  in,  surrounded  by  soldiery. 
The  lion  roared,  and  ramped  against  the  bars 
of  his  den  at  the  sight.  The  guard  put  a 
sword  and  buckler  into  the  hands  of  the 
Christian,  and  he  was  left  alone.  He  drew 
the  mantle  from  his  face,  and  bent  a slow  and 
firm  look  round  the  amphitheatre.  His  fine 
countenance  and  lofty  bearing  raised  a uni- 
versal shout  of  admiration.  He  might  have 
stood  for  an  Apollo  encountering  the  Python. 
His  eye  at  last  turned  on  mine.  Could  I be- 
lieve my  senses!  Constantius  was  before 
me ! 

All  my  rancour  vanished.  An  hour  past 
I could  have  struck  the  betrayer  to  the  heart ; 
I could  have  called  on  the  severest  vengeance 
of  man  and  heaven  to  smite  the  destroyer  of 
my  child.  But,  to  see  him  hopelessly  doom- 
ed; the  man  whom  I had  honored  for  his  no- 
ble qualities,  whom  I had  even  loved,  whose 
crime  was  at  worst  but  the  crime  of  giving 
way  to  the  strongest  temptation  that  can  be- 
wilder the  heart  of  man;  to  see  this  noble 
creature  flung  to  the  savage  beast,  dying  in 
tortures,  torn  piecemeal  before  my  eyes,  and 
this  misery  wrought  by  me, — I would  have 
obtested  earth  and  heaven  to  save  him.  But 
my  tongue  cleaved  to  the  roof  of  my  mouth. 
My  limbs  refused  to  stir.  I would  have 
thrown  myself  at  the  feet  of  Nero;  but  I sat 
like  a man  of  stone,  pale,  paralysed — the 


beating  of  my  pulses  stopped — my  eyes  alone 
alive. 

The  gate  of  the  den  was  thrown  back,  and 
the  lion  rushed  in  with  a roar,  and  a bound 
that  bore  him  half  across  the  arena.  I saw 
the  sword  glitter  in  the  air:  when  it  waved 
again  it  was  covered  with  blood.  A howl 
told  that  the  blow  had  been  driven  home. 
The  lion,  one  of  the  largest  from  Numidia, 
and  made  furious  by  thirst  and  hunger,  an 
animal  of  prodigious  power,  couched  for  an 
instant  as  if  to  make  sure  of  his  prey,  crept  a 
few  paces  onward,  and  sprang  at  the  victim’s 
throat.  He  was  met  by  a second  wound,  but 
his  impulse  was  irresistible ; and  Constantius 
was  flung  upon  the  ground.  A cry  of  natu- 
ral horror  rang  round  the  amphitheatre.  The 
struggle  was  now  for  instant  life  or  death. 
They  rolled  over  each  other ; the  lion  reared 
on  its  hind  feet,  and,  with  gnashing  teeth  and 
distended  talons,  plunged  on  the  man;  again 
they  rose  together.  Anxiety  was  now  at  its 
wildest  height.  The  sword  swung  round  the 
champion’s  head  in  bloody  circles.  They  fell 
again,  covered  with  gore  and  dust.  The  hand 
of  Constantius  had  grasped  the  lion’s  mane, 
and  the  furious  bounds  of  the  monster  could 
not  loose  the  hold ; but  his  strength  was  evi- 
dently giving  way : he  still  struck  terrible 
blows,  but  each  was  weaker  than  the  one  be- 
fore; till  collecting  his  whole  force  for  a last 
effort,  he  darted  one  mighty  blow  into  the 
lion’s  throat,  and  sank.  The  savage  yelled, 
and  spouting  out  blood,  fled  howling  round 
the  arena.  But  the  hand  still  grasped  the 
mane,  and  his  conqueror  was  dragged  whirl- 
ing through  the  dust  at  his  heels.  A univer- 
sal outcry  now  arose  to  save  him,  if  he  were 
not  already  dead.  But  the  lion,  though  bleed- 
ing from  every  vein,  was  still  too  terrible ; 
and  all  shrank  from  the  hazard.  At  length 
the  grasp  gave  way,  and  the  body  lay  motion- 
less upon  the  giound. 

What  happened  for  some  moments  after, 

I know  not.  There  was  a struggle  at  the 
portal ; a female  forced  her  way  through  the 
guards,  rushed  in  alone,  and  flung  herself 
upon  the  victim.  The  sight  of  a new  prey 
roused  the  lion:  he  tore  the  ground  with  his 
talons;  he  lashed  his  streaming  sides  with  ! 
his  tail;  he  lifted  up  his  mane  and  bared  his 
fangs.  But  his  approach  was  no  longer  with 
a bound ; he  dreaded  the  swo-rd,  and  came 
snuffing  the  blood  on  the  sand,  and  stealing 
round  the  body  in  circuits  still  diminishing. 

The  confusion  in  the  vast  assemblage  was 
now  extreme.  Voices  innumerable  called 
for  aid.  Women  screamed  and  fainted;  men  I 
burst  out  into  indignant  clamors  at  this  pro- 
longed cruelty.  Even  the  hard  hearts  of  the 
populace,  accustomed  as  they  were  to  the  sa- 
crifice of  life,  were  roused  to  honest  curses. 
The  guards  grasped  their  arms  and  waited  s 


Salathiel. 


65 


but  for  a sign  from  the  emperor.  But  Nero 
gave  no  sign. 

I looked  upon  the  woman’s  face.  It  was 
Salome ! I sprang  upon  my  feet.  I called 
on  her  name;  I implored  her  by  every  feeling 
of  nature  to  fly  from  that  place  of  death,  to 
come  to  my  arms,  to  think  of  the  agonies  of 
all  that  loved  her. 

She  had  raised  the  head  of  Constantius,  on 
her  knee,  and  was  wiping  the  pale  visage  with 
her  hair.  At  the  sound  of  my  voice  she  looked 
up,  and  calmly  casting  back  the  locks  from  her 
forehead,  fixed  her  gaze  upon  me.  She  still 
knelt ; one  hand  supported  the  head,  with  the 
other  she  pointed  to  it,  as  her  only  answer.  1 
again  adjured  her.  There  was  the  silence  of 
death  among  the  thousands  round  me.  A fire 
flashed  into  her  eye— her  cheek  burned.  She 
waved  her  hand  with  an  air  of  superb  sorrow. 

“I  am  come  to  die,”  she  uttered,  in  a lofty 
tone.  “ This  bleeding  body  was  my  husband. 
I have  no  father.  The  world  contains  to  me 
but  this  clay  in  my  arms.  Yet,”  and  she 
kissed  the  ashy  lips  before  her,  “ yet,  my  Con- 
stantius, it  was  to  save  that  father,  that  your 
generous  heart  defied  the  peril  of  this  hour. 
It  was  to  redeem  him  from  the  hand  of  evil, 
that  you  abandoned  our  quiet  home  ! yes, 


cruel  father,  here  lies  the  noble  being  that 
threw  open  your  dungeon,  that  led  you  safe 
through  conflagration,  that  to  the  last  mo- 
ment of  his  liberty  only  thought  how  he 
might  serve  and  protect  you.”  Tears  at 
length  fell  in  floods  from  her  eyes.  “ But,” 
said  she,  in  a tone  of  wild  power,  “ he  was 
betrayed  ; and  may  the  power  whose  thunders 
avenge  the  cause  of  his  people  pour  down  just 
retribution  upon  the  head  that  dared ” 

I heard  my  own  condemnation  about  to  be  pronounc- 
ed by  the  lips  of  my  child.  Wound  up  to  the  last 
degree  of  suffering,  I tore  my  hair,  leaped  on  the  bars 
before  me,  and  plunged  into  the  arena  by  her  side. 
The  height  stunned  me;  I tottered  forward  a few  paces, 
and  fell.  The  lion  gave  a roar,  and  sprang  "upon  me. 
I lay  helpless  under  him.  T felt  his  fiery  breath — I saw 
his  lurid  eye  glaring — 1 heard  the  gnashing  of  his  white 

fangs  above  me an  exulting  shout  arose.  I saw 

him  reel  as  if  struck: — gore  filled  his  jaws; — another 
mighty  blow  was  driven  to  his  heart.  He  sprang  high 
in  the  air  with  a howl.  He  dropped;  he  was  dead. 
The  amphitheatre  thundered  with  acclamation. 

With  Salome  clinging  to  my  bosom,  Constantiue 
raised  me  from  the  ground.  The  roar  of  the  lion  haa 
roused  him  from  his  swoon,  and  two  blows  saved  me. 
The  falchion  was  broken  in  the  heart  of  the  monster. 
The  whole  multitude  stood  up,  supplicating  for  our 
lives  in  the  name  of  filial  piety  and  heroism.  Nero, 
devil  as  he  was,  dared  not  resist  the  strength  of  the 
popular  feeling.  He  waved  a signal  to  the  guards  , the 
portal  was  opened ; and  my  children  sustaining  my 
feeble  steps,  and  showered  with  garlands  and  ornaments 
from  innumerable  hands,  slowly  led  me  from  the 
arena.  • 


VIEW  OF  JERUSALEM  FROM  THE  WEST. 


Her  gold  is  dim,  and  mute  her  music’s  voice 
Jerusalem,  Jerusalem, 

Thy  cross  thou  bearest  now  ! 

An  iron  yoke  is  on  thy  neck, 

And  blood  is  on  thy  brow ; 


; The  Heathen  o'er  her  perish’d  pomp  rejoice. 
The  golden  crown,  the  crown  of  Truth, 
Thou  didst  reject  as  dross, 

And  now  thv  cross  is  on  thee  laid. 

The  Crescent  is  thy  cross. 


66 


Salalhiel. 


CHAPTER  XXL 

The  first  rage  of  the  persecution  was  at  an 
end.  The  popular  thirst  for  blood  was  satia- 
ted. The  natural  admiration  that  follows  for- 
titude and  innocence,  and  the  natural  hatred 
that  consigns  a tyrant  to  the  execration  of  his 
time  and  of  posterity,  found  their  way ; and 
Nero  dared  murder  no  more.  J had  volunta- 
rily shared  the  prison  of  Constantius  and  my 
child.  Its  doors  were  set  open.  The  liber- 
ality of  my  people  supplied  the  means  of  re- 
turning to  Judea,  and  we  hastened  down  the 
Tiber  in  the  first  vessel  that  spread  her  sails 
from  this  throne  of  desolation.  The  chances 
that  had  brought  us  together  were  easily  ex- 
plained. Salome,  urged  to  desperation  by  the 
near  approach  of  her  marriage,  and  solicited 
to  save  herself  from  the  perjury  of  vowing 
her  love  to  a man  unpossessed  of  her  heart, 
flew  with  Constantius  to  Caesarea.  The  only 
person  in  their  confidence  was  the  domestic 
who  betrayed  me  into  the  hands  of  the  procu- 
rator, and  who  assisted  them  only  that  he 
might  lure  me  from  home.  At  Caesarea  they 
were  married,  and  remained  in  concealment 
under  the  protection  of  the  young  Septimius. 
My  transmission  to  Rome  struck  them  with 
terror,  and  Constantius  instantly  embarked  to 
save  me  by  his  Italian  influence.  The  at- 
tempt,was  surrounded  with  peril ; but  Salome 
would  not  be  left  behind.  Disguised,  to  avoid 
my  possible  refusal  of  life  at  his  hands,  he 
followed  me  step  by  step.  There  were  many 
of  our  people  among  the  attendants,  and  even 
in  the  higher  offices  of  the  court.  The 
empress  had,  in  her  reproaches  to  Nero,  dis- 
closed the  new  barbarity  of  my  sentence. — 
No  time  was  to  be  lost.  Constantins,  at  the 
imminent  hazard  of  life,  entered  the  palace. 
He  saw  the  block  already  erected  in  the  gar- 
den before  the  window  where  Nero  sat  invent- 
ing a melody  which  was  to  grace  my  depar- 
ture. The  confusion  of  the  fire  allowed  the 
only  escape.  I was  the  witness  of  his  con- 
sternation when  he  made  so  many  fruitless 
efforts  to  penetrate  to  the  place  where  Salome 
remained  in  the  care  of  his  relatives.  When 
I scaled  the  burning  mansion,  he  desperately 
followed,  lost  his  way  among  the  ruins,  and 
was  giving  up  all  hope,  when  wrapt  in  fire 
and  smoke,  Salome  fell  at  his  feet.  He  bore 
her  to  another  mansion  of  his  family.  It  had 
given  shelter  to  the  chief  Christians.  They 
were  seized ; his  young  wife  scorned  to  sur- 
vive Constantius ; and  chance  and  my  own 
fortunate  desperation  alone  saved  me  from 
seeing  their  martyrdom. 

We  returned  to  Judea.  In  the  first  em- 
brace of  my  family  all  was  forgotten  and  for- 
given. My  brother  rejoiced  in  Salome’s  hap- 


piness ; and  even  her  rejected  kinsman, 
through  all  his  reluctance,  acknowledged  the 
claims  of  the  man  to  the  daughter’s  hand, 
who  had  saved  the  life  of  the  father. 

What  perception  of  health  is  ever  so  ex- 
quisite, as  when  we  first  rise  from  the  bed 
of  sickness  1 What  enjoyment  of  the  heart 
is  so  full  of  delight,  as  that  which  follows  ex- 
treme suffering]  I had  but  just  escaped  the 
most  formidable  personal  hazards;  I had  es- 
caped the  still  deeper  suffering  of  seeing  ruin 
fall  on  beings,  whom  I would  have  died  to 
rescue.  Salome’s  heart,  overflowing  with 
happiness,  gave  new  brightness  to  her  eyes, 
and  new  atlimation  to  her  lovely  form.  She 
danced  with  involuntary  joy ; she  sang,  she 
laughed ; her  fancy  kindled  into  a thousand 
sparklings.  Beautiful  being!  in  my  visions 
thou  art  still  before  me:  I clasp  thee  to  my 
widowed  heart,  and  hear  thy  sweet  voice, 
sweeter  than  the  fountain  in  the  desert  to  the 
pilgiim,  cheering  me  in  the  midst  of  my  more 
than  pilgrimage ! 

An  accession  of  opulence  gave  the  only  in- 
crease, if  increase  could  be  given,  to  the 
happiness  that  seemed  within  my  reach.  The 
year  of  Jubilee  arrived.  Abolished  as  the 
chief  customs  of  Judea  had  been  by  the  weak- 
ness and  guilt  of  idolatrous  kings  and  gene- 
rations, they  were  still  observed  by  all  who 
honored  the  faith  of  their  fathers.  The  law 
of  Jubilee  was  sacred  in  our  mountains.  It 
was  the  law  of  a wisdom  and  benevolence 
above  man. 

Its  peculiar  adaptation  to  Israel,  its  provi- 
sion for  the  virtue  and  happiness  of  the  indi- 
vidual, and  its  safeguard  of  the  public  strengh 
and  constitutional  integrity,  were  unrivalled 
among  the  finest  ordinances  of  the  ancient 
world. 

On  the  entrance  of  the  Israelites  into  Ca- 
naan, the  land  was  divided,  by  the  inspired 
ordinance,  among  the  tribes,  according  to 
their  numbers.  Toeach  family  a pottion  was 
given,  as  a gift  from  heaven.  This  gift  was 
to  be  unalienable.  The  estate  might  be  sold 
for  a period : but  at  the  fiftieth  year,  in  the 
evening  of  the  day  of  atonement,  in  the  month 
Tisri,  the  sound  of  the  Trumpets  from  the 
sanctuary,  echoed  by  thousands  from  every 
mountain  top,  proclaimed  the  Jubilee.  Then 
returned  every  family  to  its  original  posses- 
sions. All  the  more  abject  degrauations  of 
poverty,  the  wearing  out  of  families,  the  hope- 
less ruin,  were  obviated  by  this  great  law. — • 
The  most  undone  being  in  the  limits  of  Judea 
had  still  a hold  in  the  land.  His  ruin  could 
not  be  final,  perhaps  could  not  extend  beyond 
a few  years;  in  the  last  extremity  he  could 
not  be  scorned  as  one  whose  birth-right  was 
extinguished;  the  Jubilee  was  to  raise  him 
up,  and  place  the  outcast  on  the  early  rank  of 
the  sons  of  Israel.  All  the  higher  feelings 


Salathiel. 


were  cherished  oy  this  incomparable  hope. — 
The  man,  conscious  of  his  future  possession, 
retained  the  honorable  pride  of  property  un- 
der the  sternest  privations.  The  time  was 
hurrying  on,  when  he  should  stand  on  an 
equality  with  mankind,  when  his  worn  spirit 
should  begin  the  world  again  with  fresh  vig- 
or, if  he  were  young ; or  when  he  should  sit 
under  the  vine  and  fig  tree  of  his  fathers,  if 
his  age  refused  again  to  struggle  for  the  dis- 
tinctions of  the  world. 

The  agrarian  laws  of  Rome  and  Sparta, 
feeble  efforts  to  establish  this  true  foundation 
of  personal  and  political  vigor,  showed  at 
once  the  natural  desire,  and  the  weakness,  of 
human  wisdom.  The  Roman  plunged  the 
people  in  furious  dissentions,  and  perished  al- 
most in  its  birth.  The  Spartan  was  secured 
for  a time  only  by  batbarian  prohibitions  of 
money  and  commerce — a code  which  raised 
an  iron  wall  against  civilization,  turned  the 
people  into  a perpetual  soldiery,  and  finally, 
by  the  mere  result  of  perpetual  war,  over- 
threw liberty,  dominion,  and  name. 

The  Jubilee  was  for  a peculiar  people,  re- 
stricted by  a divine  interposition  from  increase 
beyond  the  original  number.  But  who  shall 
say  how  far  the  same  benevolent’interposition 
might  not  have  been  extended  to  all  nations, 
if  they  had  revered  the  original  compact  of 
heaven  with  man  1 how  far  through  the  earth 
the  provisions  for  each  man’s  wants  might 
have  been  secured ; the  overwhelming  super- 
abundance of  beggared  and  portionless  life 
that  fills  the  world  with  crime,  have  been  re- 
strained ; and  tyranny,  that  growth  of  desper- 
ate abjectness  of  the  understanding,  and  gross 
corruption  of  senses,  have  been  repelled  by 
manly  knowledge  and  native  virtue!  But 
the  time  may  come  ! 

In  the  first  allotments  of  the  territory,  am- 
ple domains  had  been  appointed  for  the  princes 
and  leaders  of  the  tribes.  One  of  those 
princedoms  now  returned  to  me,  and  I entered 
upon  the  inheritance  of  the  leaders  of  Naph- 
tali,  a large  extent  of  hill  and  valley,  rich 
with  corn,  olive,  and  vine.  The  antiquity  of 
possession  gave  a kind  of  hallowed  and  mon- 
umental interest  to  the  soil.  I was  master 
of  its  wealth  ; but  I indulged  a loftier  feeling 
in  the  recollection  of  those  who  had  trod  the 
palace  and  the  bower  before  me.  Every 
apartment  bore  the  trace  of  those  whom  from 
boyhood  I had  reverenced ; every  fountain, 
every  tree  was  familiar  to  me  from  the  strong 
impressions  of  infancy ; and  often  when  in 
some  of  the  fragrant  evenings  of  spring  I 
have  flung  inyseTf  among  the  thick  beds  of 
bloom,  that  spread  spontaneously  over  my  hills, 
the  spirits  of  the  loved  and  honored  seemed 
to  gather  round  me.  I saw  once  more  the 
matron  gravity,  the  virgin  grace ; even  the 
more  remote  generations,  those  great  progen- 


itors who  with  David  fought  the  Philistine ; 
the  solemn  chieftains,  who  with  Joshua  fol- 
lowed the  ark  of  the  covenant  through  toil 
and  battle  into  the  promised  land  ; the  sainted 
sages  who  witnessed  the  giving  of  the  law, 
and  in  the  midst  of  the  idolatry  of  the  people 
worshiped  Him  who  spake  in  thunder  from 
Sinai ; all  moved  before  me,  for  all  had  trod 
the  very  ground  on  which  I gazed.  Could 
I transfer  myself  back  to  their  time,  on 
that  spot  I should  stand  among  a living 
circle  of  heroic  and  glorious  beings,  before 
whose  true  glory  the  pomps  of  earth  were 
vain ; the  hearers  of  the  prophets,  prophets 
themselves ; the  servants  of  the  hand  of  mira- 
cle, the  companions  of  the  friend  of  God  ; nay, 
distinction  that  surpasses  human  thought, 
themselves  the  chosen  of  heaven. 

The  cheering  occupations  of  rural  life  were 
to  be  henceforth  pursued  on  a scale  more  fit- 
ting my  rank.  I was  the  first  chieftain  of  my 
tribe,  the  man  by  whose  wisdom  multitudes 
were  to  be  guided,  and  by  whose  benevolence 
multitudes  were  to  be  sustained.  I felt  that 
mingled  sense  of  rank  and  responsibility 
which,  with  the  vain,  the  ignorant,  or  the  vi- 
cious, is  the  strongest  temptation  to  excess; 
but  with  the  honorable  and  the  educated,  con- 
stitutes the  most  pleasurable  and  elevated 
state  of  the  human  mind. 

Yet  what  are  the  fortunes  of  man,  but  a 
ship  launched  on  an  element  whose  essence 
is  restlessness  1 The  very  wind,  without 
which  we  cannot  move,  gathers  to  a storm, 
and  we  are  undone  ! The  tyranny  of  our  con- 
querors had  for  a fewT  months  been  paralyzed 
by  the  destruction  of  Rome.  But  the  gover- 
nor of  Judea  was  not  to  be  long  withheld, 
where  plunder  allured  the  most  furious  rapa- 
city that  perhaps  ever  hungered  in  the  heart 
of  man.  I was  in  the  midst  of  our  harvest, 
surrounded  with  the  fruitage  of  the  year,  and 
enjoying  the  sights  and  sounds  of  patriarchal 
life,  when  I received  the  formidable  summons 
to  present  myself  again  before  Florus.  Im- 
prisonment and  torture  were  in  the  command. 
He  had  heard  of  my  opulence,  and  I knew 
how  little  his  insolent  cupidity  would  regard 
the  pardon  under  which  I had  returned.  I 
determined  to  retire  into  the  mountains.  But 
the  Roman  plunderer  had  the  activity  of  his 
countrymen.  On  the  very  night  of  my  re- 
ceiving the  summons,  I was  roused  from  sleep 
by  the  outcries  of  the  retainers,  'who  in  that 
season  of  heat  lay  in  the  open  air  around  the 
palace.\  I started  from  my  bed  only  to  see 
with  astonishment  the  courtyards  filled  with 
cavalry,  galloping  in  pursuit  of  the  few  pea- 
sants who  still  fought  for  their  lord.  There 
was  no  time  to  be  lost ; the  torches  were  al- 
ready in  the  hands  of  the  soldiery,  and  I must 
be  taken,  or  burnt  alive.  Constantius  was 
instantly  at  my  side.  I ordered  the  trumpet 


68 


Salalhiel. 


to  be  sounded  on  the  hills,  and  we  rushed  out 
together,  spear  in  hand.  The  Romans, 
alarmed  by  resistance,  where  they  had  count- 
ed upon  capture  without  a blow,  fell  back. 
The  interval  was  fatal.  Their  retreat  was 
intercepted  by  the  whole  body  of  peasantry, 
effectually  roused.  The  scythe  and  reaping- 
hook  were  deadly  weapons  to  horsemen 
cooped  up  between  walls,  and  in  midnight. 
No  efforts  of  mine  could  stop  the  havoc, 
when  once  the  fury  of  my  people  was  roused. 
A few  escaped,  who  had  broken  wildly  away 
in  the  first  onset.  The  rest  were  left  to  cover 
the  avenues  with  the  first  sanguinary  offer- 
ings of  the  final  war  of  Judea. 

I felt  that  this  escape  could  be  but  tempo- 
rary ; for  the  Roman  pride  and  policy  never 
forgave  until  the  slightest  stain  of  defeat  was 
wiped  away.  All  was  consternation  in  my 
family ; and  the  order  for  departure,  whatever 
tears  it  cost,  found  no  opposition.  In  a few 
hours  our  camels  and  mules  were  loaded, 
our  horses  caparisoned,  and  we  were  prepar- 
ed to  quit  the  short-lived  pomp  of  the  house 
of  my  fathers.  Constantius  alone  did  not  ap- 
pear. This  noble  minded  being  had  won 
even  upon  me,  until  I considered  him  as  the 
substitute  for  my  lost  son,  and  I would  have 
run  the  last  hazard  rather  than  leave  him  to 
the  Roman  mercy.  With  the  women  the  in- 
terest was  expressed  by  a declared  resolution 
not  to  leave  the  spot  until  he  was  found.  The 
caravan  was  broken  up,  and  all  desire  of  escape 
at  an  end. 

At  the  close  of  a day  of  search  through 
every  defile  of  the  country,  he  was  seen  re- 
turning at  the  head  of  some  peasants  bearing 
a body  on  a litter.  I flew  to  meet  him.  He 
was  in  deep  affliction,  and  drawing  off  a 
mantle  which  covered  the  face,  he  shewed 
me  Septimius.  “In  the  flight  of  the  Romans,” 
said  he,  “ I saw  a horseman  making  head 
against  a crowd.  His  voice  caught  my  ear. 
I rushed  forward  to  save  him,  and  he  burst 
through  the  circle  at  full  speed.  But  by  the' 
light  of  the  torches  I could  perceive  that  he 
was  desperately  wounded.  W hen  day  broke, 
I tracked  him  by  his  blood.  His  horse,  gash- 
ed with  scythes,  at  last  fell  under  him.  I 
found  my  unfortunate  friend  lying  senseless 
beside  a rill,  to  which  he  had  crept  for 
water.” 

Tears  fell  from  his  eyes  as  he  told  the 
brief  story.  I too  remembered  the  generous 
interposition  of  the  youth,  and  when  I looked 
upon  the  paleness  of  those  fine  Italian  fea- 
tures, that  I had  so  lately  seen  lighted  up 
with  living  spirit,  and  in  the  midst  of  a scene 
of  regal  luxury,  I felt  a pang  for  the  uncer- 
tainty of  human  things.  But  the  painful  part 
of  the  moral  was  spared  us.  The  young 
Roman’s  wounds  were  stanched,  and  in  an 
enemy  and  a Roman  I found  the  means  of 


paying  a debt  of  gratitude.  His  appearance 
among  the  troops  sent  to  seize  me,  had  been 
only  a result  of  his  anxiety  to  save  the  father 
of  his  friends.  He  had  accidentally  discov- 
ered the  nature  of  the  order,  and  hoped  to 
anticipate  its  execution.  But  he  arrived  only 
in  time  to  be  involved  in  the  confusion  of  the 
flight.  Pursued  and  wounded  by  the  pea- 
santry, he  lost  his  way,  and  but  for  the  gener- 
ous perseverance  of  Constantius  he  must  have 
died. 

The  public  information  which  he  brought 
was  of  the  most  important  kind.  In  the 
Roman  Councils,  the  utter  subjugation  of 
Judea  was  resolved  on.  The  last  spark  of 
national  independence  was  to  be  extinguished, 
though  in  the  blood  of  the  last  native ; a 
Roman  colony  established  in  our  lands ; the 
Roman  worship  introduced;  and  Jerusalem 
profaned  by  a statue  of  Nero,  and  sacrifices 
to  him  as  a god,  on  the  altar  of  the  sanctuary. 
To  crush  the  resistance  of  the  people,  the 
legions,  to  the  amount  of  sixty  thousand  men, 
were  under  orders  from  proconsular  Asia, 
Egypt,  and  Europe.  The  most  distinguished 
captain  of  the  empire,  Vespasian,  was  called 
from  Britain  to  the  command,  and  the  whole 
military  strength  of  Rome  was  prepared  to 
follow  up  the  blow. 

I summoned  the  chief  men  of  the  tribe, 
and  in  a general  meeting  was  invested  with 
the  military  command.  My  temperament 
was  warlike.  The  seclusion  and  studies  of 
my  early  life  had  but  partially  suppressed  my 
natural  delight  in  the  vividness  of  martial 
achievement.  But  the  cause  that  now  sum- 
moned me  was  enough  to  have  kindled  the 
dullest  peasant  into  the  soldier.  I had  seen 
the  discipline  of  the  enemy.  I had  made 
myself  master  of  their  system  of  war.  For- 
tifications wherever  a stone  could  be  piled 
upon  a hill;  provisions  laid  up  in  large  quan- 
tities wherever  they  could  be  secure;  small 
bodies  of  troops,  practised  in  manoeuvre,  and 
perpetually  in  motion  between  the  fortresses; 
a general  basis  of  operations,  to  which  all  the 
movements  referred  ; were  the  simple  princi- 
ples that  had  made  them  conquerors  of  the 
world.  I resolved  to  give  them  speedy  proof 
of  their  pupilage. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

I felt  that  insurrection  was  to  be  no  longer 
avoided.  Whatever  was  the  consequence, 
the  sword  must  be  unsheathed  without  delay. 
With  Eleazar  and  Constantius,  I cast  my  eyes 
over  the  map,  and  examined  on  what  point 
the  first  blow  should  fall.  The  proverbial 
safety  of  a multitude  of  councillors,  was  ob- 
viously neglected  in  the  smallness  of  my 


Scilathiel. 


69 


council;  vet,  few  as  we  were,  we  differed 
upon  every  point  but  one,  that  of  the  certain- 
ty7 of  our  danger  ; the  promptitude  of  Roman 
vengeance  suffered  no  contest  of  opinion. 

Eleazar,  with  a spirit  as  manly  as  ever 
faced  hazard,  yet  gave  his  voice  for  delay. 

“ The  sole  hope  of  success,”  said  he,  “ must 
depend  on  rousing  the  popular  mind.  The 
Roman  troops  are  not  to  be  beaten  by  any 
regular  army  in  the  world.  If  we  attack 
them  on  the  ordinary  principles  of  war,  the  ] 
result  can  only  be  defeat,  slaughter  in  dun- 
geons, and  deeper  slavery.  If  the  nation  can 
be  roused,  numbers  may  prevail  over  disci- 
pline; variety  of  attacks  may  distract  science; 
the  desperate  boldness  of  the  insurgents  may 
at  length  exhaust  the  Roman  fortitude ; and 
a glorious  peace  will  then  restore  the  country 
to  that  independence  for  which  my  life  would 
be  a glad  and  ready  sacrifice.  But  you  must 
first  have  the  people  with  you,  and  for  that 
purpose  you  must  have  the  leaders  of  the 
people ” 

“What!”  interrupted  1,  “ must  we  first 
mingle  in  the  cabals  of  Jerusalem,  and  rouse 
the  frigid  debaters  and  disputers  of  the  San- 
hedrim into  action  1 Are  we  first  to  conci- 
liate the  irreconcilable,  to  soften  the  furious, 
to  purify  the  corrupt!  If  the  Romans  are  to 
be  our  tyrants  till  we  can  teach  patriotism  to 
faction  ; we  may  as  well  build  the  dungeon  at 
once,  for  to  the  dungeon  we  are  consigned 
for  the  longest  life  among  us.  Death  or  glory 
for  me.  There  is  no  alternative  between, 
not  merely  the  half  slavery  that  we  now  live 
in  and  independence,  but  between  the  most 
condign  suffering  and  the  most  illustrious 
security.  If  the  people  would  rise,  through 
the  pressure  of  public  injury,  they  must  have 
risen  long  since  ; if  from  private  violence, 
what  town,  what  district,  what  family,  has 
not  its  claims  of  deadly  retribution  ! Yet 
here  the  people  stand,  after  a hundred  years 
of  those  continued  stimulants  to  resistance, 
as  unresisting  as  in  the  day  when  Pompey 
marched  over  the  threshold  of  the  Temple. 
I know  your  generous  friendship,  Eleazar, 
and  fear  that  your  anxiety  to  save  me  from 
the  chances  of  the  struggle,  may  bias  your 
better  judgment.  But  here  I pledge  myself, 
by  all  that  constitutes  the  honor  of  man,  to 
strike  at  all  risks  a blow  upon  the  Roman 
crest  that  shall  echo  through  the  land.  W7hat ! 
commit  our  holy  cause  into  the  nursing  of 
those  pampered  hypocrites  whose  utter  base- 
ness of  heart  you  know  still  more  deeply  than 
I do!  Linger,  till  those  pestilent  profligates 
raise  their  price  with  Florus  by  betraying  a 
design  that  will  be  the  glory  of  every  man 
who  draws  a sword  in  it!  vainly,  madly,  ask 
a brood  that,  like  the  serpent,  engender  and 
fatten  among  the  ruins  of  their  country,  to 
discard  their  venom,  to  cast  their  fangs,  to 


feel  for  human  feelings!  As  well  ask  the 
j serpent  itself  to  rise  from  the  original  curse. 

1 It  is  the  irrevocable  nature  of  faction  to  be 
'.base,  till  it  can  be  mischievous;  to  lick  the 
dust  until  it  can  sting;  to  creep  on  its  belly 
until  it  can  twist  its  (bids  around  the  victim. 
No!  let  the  old  pensionaries,  the  bloated 
Tangers-on  in  the  train  of  every  governor, 

! the  open  sellers  of  their  country  for  filthy 
lucre,  betray  me  when  I leave  it  in  their 
j power.  To  the  field  I say,  once  and  for  all, 
to  the  field.” 

My  mind  was  fevered  by  the  perplexity  of 
the  time,  and  was  at  no  period  patient  of  con- 
tradiction. I was  about  to  leave  the  cham- 
ber, when  Constantius  gravely  stopped  me. 

“ My  father,”  said  he,  with  a voice  calmer 
than  his  countenance,  “ you  have  hurt  our 
noble  kinsman’s  feelings.  It  is  not  in  an 
hour  when  our  unanimity  may  fail,  that  we 
should  suffer  dissensions  between  those  whose 
hearts  are  alike  embarked  in  this  great  cause. 
Let  tne  mediate  between  you.” 

He  led  Eleazar  back  from  the  casement  to 
which  he  had  withdrawn  to  cool  his  blood, 
burning  with  the  offence  of  my  language. 
“ Eleazar  is  right.  The  Romans  are  irresis- 
tible by  any  force  short  of  the  whole  people. 
They  have  the  full  military  possession  of  the 
country.  All  your  fortresses,  all  your  posts, 
all  your  passes  ; they  are  as  familiar  as  you 
are  with  every  defile,  mountain,  and  marsh  ; 
they  surround  you  with  conquered  provinces 
on  the  north,  east,  and  south  ; your  western 
barrier  is  open  to  them,  while  it  is  shut  to 
you ; the  sea  is  the  high  road  of  their  armies, 
while  at  their  first  forbidding  you  dare  not 
launch  a galley  between  Libanus  and  Idu- 
mea. Nothing  can  counterbalance  this  local 
superiority  but  the  rising  of  your  whole  peo- 
ple.” 

“But  are  we  to  intrigue  with  the  talkers 
in  Jerusalem  for  this!”  interrupted  I;  “What 
less  than  a descended  thunderbolt  could  rouse 
them  to  a sense,  that  there  is  even  a Heaven 
above  them  !” 

“ Yet  we  must  have  them  with  us,”  said 
Constantius,  “ for  we  must  have  all.  Uni- 
versality is  the  spirit  of  an  insurrectionary 
war.  If  I were  commander  of  a revolt,  I 
should  feel  greater  confidence  of  success  at 
the  head  of  a single  province,  in  which  every 
human  being  from  boyhood  upwards  was 
against  the  enemy,  than  at  the  head  of  an 
empire  partially  in  arms.  The  mind  even 
of  the  rudest  spearsman  is  a great  portion  of 
him.  The  boldest  shrinks  from  the  conscious- 
ness that  hostility  is  on  all  sides,  that  whether 
marching  or  at  rest,  watching  or  sleeping, 
by  night  or  by  day,  enmity  concealed  or  visi- 
ble is  round  him  ; that  it  is  in  the  very  air  he 
breathes,  in  the  very  food  he  eats,  that  he  can 
never  feel  for  a moment  secure  ; that  every 


70 


Salalhiel. 


face  lie  sees,  is  the  face  of  one  who  wishes  I 
him  dead  ; that  every  knife,  even  every  trivial 
instrument  of  human  use,  maybe  turned  into 
a shedder  of  his  blood.  Those  tilings  perpe- 
tually confronting  his  mind,  break  it  down  ; 
he  grows  reckless,  miserable,  undisciplined, 
and  a dastard.” 

“ But,”  observed  Eleazar,  “the  sufferings 
of  the  troops  are  seldom  allowed  to  affect 
the  generals.  And  to  men  who  have  no  ob- 
ject but  conquest  and  plunder,  the  constant 
robbery  of  an  insurrectionary  war,  must  ren- 
der it  a favorite  command.” 

“ Let  me  speak  from  experience,”  said  Con- 
stantius : “Two  years  ago  I was  attached 
with  a squadron  of  galleys  to  the  expedition 
against  the  tribes  of  Mount  Taurus.  While 
the  galleys  wintered  in  Cyprus,  I followed 
the  troops  up  the  hills.  No  language  can 
describe  tne -discontent  even  of  that  most  un- 
murmuring of  all  armies,  a Roman  army. 
Nothing  had  been  omitted  that  could  counte- 
ract the  severity  of  the  season.  Tents,  pro- 
visions, clothing  adapted  to  the  hills,  even 
luxuries  despatched  from  the  islands,  gave 
the  camps  almost  the  indulgences  of  cities. 
The  physical  hardships  of  the  campaign  were 
trivial,  compared  with  those  of  hundreds,  in 
which  the  Romans  had  beaten  regular  ar- 
mies. Yet  the  discontent  was  indescribable, 
from  the  perpetual  and  unrelaxing  alarms  of 
the  service.  The  mountaineers  were  not 
numerous,  they  were  but  half  armed,  disci- 
plined they  were  not  at  all.  A Roman  cen- 
turion would  have  out-manoeuvred  all  their 
captains.  But  they  were  brave,  they  knew 
nothing  but  to  kill  or  to  be  killed,  and  it  made 
no  difference  to  them  whether  death  did  his 
work  by  night  or  by  day.  Sleep  was  scarce- 
ly possible.  To  sit  down  on  a march,  was  to 
be  levelled  at  by  a score  of  arrows;  to  pur- 
sue the  archers,  was  to  be  lured  into  some 
hollow,  where  a fragment  of  the  rock  above, 
or  a felled  tree  was  ready  to  crush  the  heavy 
legionaries.  We  chased  them  from  hill  to 
hill;  we  might  as  well  have  chased  the  vul- 
tures and  eagles,  that  duly  followed  us,  with 
the  perfect  certainty  of  not  being  disappoint- 
ed of  tjaeir  meal.  Wherever  the  enemy 
showed  themselves,  they  were  beaten,  but 
our  victory  was  totally  fruitless.  The  next] 
turn  of  the  mountain  road  was  a strong  hold 
from  which  we  had  to  expect  a new  storm  of 
arrows,  lances,  and  fragments  of  rocks.  The 
mountaineers  always  had  a retreat.  If  we. 
drove  them  from  the  pinnacles  of  the  hills, ! 
they  were  in  a moment  in  the  valleys,  where 
we  must  follow  them  at  the  risk  of  falling 
down  precipices  and  being  swallowed  up  by 
torrents,  in  which  the  strongest  swimmer  in 
the  legions  could  not  live  for  a moment.  If  j 
we  drove  them  from  the  valleys,  we  saw ' 
them  scaling  the  mountains  as  if  they  wore  I 


wings,  and  scoffing  at  our  tardy  and  helpless 
movements,  encumbered  as  we  were  with 
baggage  and  armor.  We  at  length  forced 
our  way  through  the  mountain  range,  and 
when  with  the  loss  of  half  the  army  we  had 
reached  their  citadel,  we  found  that  the  work 
was  to  be  begun  again.  To  remain  where 
we  were,  was  to  be  starved  ; we  had  defeated 
the  barbarians,  but  they  were  as  unconquered 
as  ever,  and  our  only  resource  was  to  retrace 
our  steps,  which  we  did  at  the  expense  of  a 
battle  every  morning,  noon,  evening,  and 
night,  with  a ruinous  losg  of  lives,  and  the 
total  abandonment  of  every  thing  in  the  shape 
of  baggage.  The  defeat  was  of  course  hushed 
up  ; and  according  to  the  old  Roman  policy, 
the  escape  was  colored  to  a victory  ; I had 
the  honor  of  carrying  back  the  general  into 
Italy,  where  he  was  decreed  an  Ovation,  a 
laurel  crown,  and  a crowd  of  the  usual  dis- 
tinctions; but  the  triumph  belonged  to  the 
men  of  the  mountains;  and  till  our  campaign 
is  forgotten,  no  Roman  officer  will  look  tor 
his  laurels  in  Mount  Taurus  again.” 

“ Such  for  ever  be  the  fate  of  wars  against 
the  natural  freedom  of  the  brave,”  said  I : 
“ but  the  Cicilians  had  the  advantage  of  an 
almost  impenetrable  country.  Three-fourths 
of  Judea  are  already  in  the  enemy’s  posses- 
sion.” 

“No  country  in  which  man  can  exist,  can 
be  impenetrable  to  an  invading  army,”  was 
the  reply:  “Natural  defences  are  trifling 
before  the  vigor  and  dexterity  of  man.  The 
true  barrier  is  in  the  hearts  of  the  defenders. 
We  were  masters  of  the  whole  range.  We 
could  not  find  a thousand  men  assembled  on 
any  one  point.  Yet  we  were  not  the  actual 
possessors  of  a mile  of  ground  beyond  the 
square  of  our  camp.  We  never  saw  a day 
without  an  attack,  nor  ever  lay  down  at  night 
without  the  certainty  of  being  started  from 
our  sleep  by  some  fierce  attempt  at  a surprise. 
It  was  this  perpetual  anxiety  that  broke  the 
spirits  of  the  troops.  All  was  in  hostility  to 
them.  They  felt  that  there  was  not  a secure 
spot  within  the  horizon.  Every  man  whom 
they  saw,  they  knew  to  be  one  who  either 
had  drawn  Roman  blood,  or  who  longed  in 
his  inmost  soul  to  draw  it.  They  dared  not 
pass  by  a single  rock  without  a search  for  a 
lurking  enemy.  Even  a felled  tree  might 
conceal  some  daring  savage,  who  was  content 
to  die  on  the  Roman  spears,  after  having  flung 
his  unerring  lance  among  the  ranks,  or  shot 
an  arrow  that  went  through  the  thickest  cors- 
let. I have  seen  the  boldest  of  the  legiona- 
ries sink  on  the  ground  in  absolute  exhaustion 
of  heart,  with  this  hopeless  and  wearying 
warfare.  I have  seen  men  with  muscles  as 
strong  as  iron,  weep  like  children,  through 
mere  depression.  With  the  harsher  spirits, 
all  was  execration  and  bitterness,  even  to 


Salathiel. 


71 


the  verge  of  mutiny.  With  the  more  gen- 
erous, all  was  regret  at  the  waste  of  honor, 
mingled  with  involuntary  admiration  of  the 
barbarians  who  thus  defied  the  haughty  cour-, 
age  and  boasted  discipline  of  the  conquerors] 
of  mankind.  The  secret  spring  of  their  re- 
sistance, was  its  universality.  Every  man 
was  embarked  in  the  common  cause.  There 
was  no  room  for  evasion,  under  cover  of  a 
party  disposed  to  peace  : there  was  no  Roman 
interest  among  the  people,  in  which  timidity 
or  selfishness  could  take  refuge.  The  na- 
tional cause  had  not  a lukewarm  friend  : the 
invaders  had  not  a dubious  enemy.  The  line 
was  drawn  with  the  sword,  and  the  cause  of 
national  independence  triumphed,  as  it  ought 
to  triumph.” 

“ But  we  are  a people  split  into  as  many 
varieties  of  opinion,  as  there  are  provinces 
or  even  villages  in  Judea,”  observed  Eleazar. 

“ The  Jew  loves  to  follow  the  opinions  of  the 
head  of  his  family,  the  chief  man  of  his  tribe, 
or  even  of  the  priest,  who  has  long  exercised 
an  influence  over  his  district.  We  have  not 
the  slavishness  of  the  Asiatic,  but  we  still 
want  the  personal  choice  of  the  European. 
We  must  secure  the  leaders,  if  we  would  se- 
cure the  people.” 

“ Men,”  said  Constantins,  “ are  intrinsical- 
ly the  same  in  every  climate  under  heaven. 
They  will  all  hate  hazard,  where  nothing  but 
hazard  is  to  be  gained.  They  will  all  linger 
for  ages  in  slavery,  where  the  taskmaster  has 
the  policy  to  avoid  sudden  violence  ; but  they 
will  all  encounter  the  severest  trials,  where 
in  the  hour  of  injury,  they  find  a leader,  pre- 
pared to  guide  them  to  honor.” 

“ And  to  that  extent  they  shall  have  trial 
of  me,”  I exclaimed  : “Before  another  Sab- 
bath, I shall  make  the  experiment  of  my  fit- 
ness to  be  the  leader  of  my  countrymen.  If 
I fail,  none  but  myself  will  suffer:  if  I suc- 
ceed, Judea  shall  be  what  she  was  before  the 
foot  of  the  Italian  stained  her  sacred  territory. 
But  no  parleying  for  me  with  the  dotards  and 
slaves  of  Jerusalem.  At  the  head  of  my  own 
tribe,  1 will  march  to  the  city,  before  the 
enemy  can  be  aware  of  my  purpose,  seize 
upon  the  garrison,  and  from  Herod’s  palace, 
from  the  very  chair  of  the  Procurator,  will  I 
at  once  silence  the  voice  of  faction,  clamor 
as  it  may  ; and  lift  the  banner  to  the  tribes  of 
Israel.” 

“ Nobly  conceived,”  said  Constantius,  his 
countenance  glowing  with  animation,  “blow 
upon  blow  is  the  true  tactic  of  an  insurrec- 
tionary war.  We  must  strike  at  once,  sud- 
denly and  fatally.  The  sword  of  him  who 
would  triumph  in  a revolt,  must  not  merely 
sound  on  the  enemy’s  helmet,  but  cut  through 

“ But  to  Jerusalem,”  said  Eleazar,  “ the 
objections  are  palpable.  The  Roman  cohorts 


fully  garrison  the  castles.  The  city  would 
be  out  of  hope  of  a surprise,  would  be  difficult 
to  capture,  and  beyond  all  chance  to  keep. 
The  whole  force  of  the  legions  would  be 
directed  upon  it ; and  if  the  revolt  failed 
there,  it  must  be  without  resource  in  the 
land.” 

“Ever  tardy,  thwarting,  and  contradicto- 
ry,” I exclaimed.  “If  the  Roman  sceptre 
lay  under  my  heel,  I should  find  Eleazar  for- 
bidding me  to  crush  it.  My  mind  is  fixed ; I 
will  hear  no  more.”  I started  from  my  seat, 
and  paced  the  room.  Eleazar  approached 
me : “ My  brother,”  said  he,  “ holding  out 
his  hand  with  a forgiving  smile,  “we  must 
not  differ.  I honor  your  heart,  Salathiel ; I 
know  your  talents ; there  is  not  a man  in  Ju- 
dea, whom  I should  be  prouder  to  see  at  the 
head  of  its  councils.  I agree  with  you,  that 
a blow  should  be  struck,  an  instant  and  a 
deadly  blow  ; and  now  I offer  you  myself  and 
every  man  whom  I can  influence,  to  follow 
you  to  the  last  extremity.  The  only  ques- 
tion is,  where  the  blow  is  to  fall.” 

Constantius  had  been  gazing  on  the  chart 
of  Judea,  which  lay  between  us  on  the  table. 
“ If  it  be  our  object,”  said  he,  “ to  combine 
injury  to  the  Romans  with  actual  advantage 
to  ourselves,  to  make  a trial  where  failure 
cannot  be  ruinous,  and  where  success  maybe 
of  measureless  value,  here  is  the  spot.”  He 
pointed  to  Masada. 

The  fortress  of  Masada  was  built  by  Herod 
the  Great,  as  his  principal  magazine  of  arms. 
A gallant  and  successful  soldier,  one  of  his 
luxuries  was  the  variety  and  costliness  of  his 
weapons,  and  the  royal  armory  of  Masada 
was  renowned  throughout  Asia.  Pride  in 
the  possession  of  such  a trophy,  probably  aided 
by  some  reverence  for  the  memory  of  the 
friend  of  Caesar  and  Anthony,  whom  the  le- 
gions still  almost  worshipped  as  tutelar  genii, 
originally  saved  it  from  the  usual  Roman 
spoliation.  But  no  native  foot  was  permitted 
to  enter  the  armory,  and  mysterious  stories 
of  the  sights  and  sounds  of  those  splendid 
halls,  filled  the  ears  of  the  people.  Masada 
was  held  to  be  the  talisman  of  the  Roman 
power  ovpr  Judea,  by  more  than  the  people  ; 
the  belief  had  made  its  way  among  the  le- 
gions ; and  no  capture  could  be  a bolder  omen 
of  the  war. 

I still  preferred  the  more  direct  blow  on 
Jerusalem  ; and  declaimed  on  the  vital  im- 
portance on  all  wars,  of  seizing  on  the  capi- 
tal. But  I was  controlled.  Eleazar’s  grave 
wisdom,  and  the  science  of  Constantius,  de- 
prived me  of  argument;  and  the  attack  on 
Masada  w’as  finally  planned  before  we  left 
the  chamber.  Nothing  could  be  more  primi- 
tive than  our  plan  for  the  siege  of  the  most 
scientific  fortification  in  Judea,  crowded  with 
men,  and  furnished  with  every  implement 


72 


Salathicl. 


and  machine  of  war  that  Roman  experience 
could  supply.  Our  simple  preparations  were 
a few  ropes  for  ladders,  a few  hatchets  for 
cutting!  down  gates  and  palisadoes,  and  a few 
faggots  for  setting  on  fire  what  we  could. 
Five  hundred  of  our  tribe,  who  had  never 
thrown  a lance  but  in  hunting,  formed  our 
expedition;  and, .at  the  head  of  those,  Con- 
stantius,  who  claimed  the  exploit  by  the  right 
of  discovery,  was  to  march  at  dusk,  conceal 
himself  in  the  forests  during  the  day,  and  on 
the  evening  of  his  arrival  within  reach  of  the 
fortress,  attempt  it  by  surprise.  Eleazar  was, 
in  the  mean  time,  to  rouse  his  retainers,  and 
I was  to  await  at  their  head  the  result  of 
the  enterprise,  and  if  successful,  unfurl  the 
standard  of  Naphtali,  and  advance  on  Jeru- 
salem. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

The  rest  of  the  memorable  day  lingered 
on  with  a tardiness  beyond  description.  The 
future  pressed  on  my  mind  with  an  intolera- 
ble weight.  The  criminal  who  counts  the 
watches  of  the  night  before  his  execution, 
has  but  a faint  image  of  that  fierce  and  yet 
pining  anxiety,  that  loathing  of  all  things 
unconnected  with  the  one  mighty  event, 
yet  that  dread  of  suffering  it  to  dwell  upon 
his  mind;  the  mixture  of  hopelessness  and 
hope,  the  sickly  panting  of  the  heart,’  the 
tenfold  and  morbid  nervousness  of  every 
nerve  in  his  frame  ; which  make  up  the  sus- 
pense of  the  conspirator  in  even  the  noblest 
cause. 

When  the  hour  of  banquet  came,  I sat 
down  in  the  midst  of  magnificence,  as  was 
the  custom  of  my  rank  ; the  table  was  filled 
with  guests;  all  around  me  was  gaiety  and 
pomp  ; high-born  men,  handsome  women, 
richly  attired  attendants;  plate,  the  work  of 
Tyrian  and  Greek  artists,  in  its  massive  beau- 
ty; walls  covered  with  tissues;  music  filling 
the  air  cooled  by  fountains  of  perfumed  wa- 
ters. I felt  as  little  of  them,  as  if  1 were  in 
the  wilderness.  The  richest  wines,  the  most 
delicate  fruits,  palled  on  my  taste.  A heavi- 
ness, an  almost  Lethean  oblivion  of  all  before 
my  eyes,  closed  up  every  feeling.  If  I had 
one  wish,  it  was  that  for  the  next  forty-eight 
hours  oblivion  might  amount  to  insensibility  ! 
At  my  wife  and  daughters  I ventured  but 
one  glance.  I thought  that  I had -never  be- 
fore seen  them  look  so  fitted  to  adorn  their 
rank,  to  be  the  models  of  grace,  loveliness, 
and  honor  to  society  ; and  the  thought  smote 
my  heart  in  the  midst  of  my  contemplation  ! 
How  soon  all  this  may  be  changed!  Will 
another  sunset  find  those  lovely  and  beloved 
beings  here  1 May  they  not  be  fugitives  and 


beggars  through  the  land,  or,  worse  a thou- 
sand rimes,  be  in  the  power  of  the  Romani 
And  this  is  my  doing.  Here  sit  I,  in  the 
midst  of  this  innocent  and  happy  circle,  draw- 
ing ruin  upon  their  heads,  and  writing  with 
a cloudy  hand  the  sentence  of  subversion 
upon  these  joyous  walls.  Here  sit  I,  like 
the  tempter  in  paradise — to  involve  in  my 
own  destruction  all  that  is  pure  and  peaceful, 
and  confiding  and  happy  ! With  what  terror 
would  they  look  upon  me,  if  they  could  at 
this  instant  see  the  evils  that  I am  summon- 
! ing  round  them  ! — “ if  they  could  read  but 
my  bosom ” 

My  eyes  sought  Constantins ; he  had  just 
returned  from  his  preparations,  and  came  in 
glowing  with  the  enthusiasm  of  the  soldier. 
He  sat  down  beside  Salome,  and  his  cheek 
gradually  turned  of  the  hue  of  death.  He 
jsat,  like  myself,  absorbed  in  frequent  reverie; 
and  to  the  playful  solicitations  of  Salome, 
that  he  would  indulge  in  the  table  after  his 
I fatigue,  he  gave  forced  smiles  and  broken 
answers.  The  future  was  plainly  busy  with 
us  both:  with  all  that  the  heart  of  man 
1 could  love  beside  him,  he  felt  the  pang  of 
contrast;  and,  when  on  accidentally  lifting 
his  eyes  they  met  mine,  the  single  con- 
scious look  interchanged,  told  the  bitter 
perturbation  that  preyed  on  both  to  the  heart’s 
core. 

I soon  rose ; and  under  pretence  of  having 
letters  to  despatch  to  our  friends  in  Rome, 
retired  to  my  chamber.  There  lay  the 
chart  still  on  the  table,  marked  by  the  pencil 
lines  of  the  route  to  Masada.  Heavens  ! with 
what  breathlessness  I traced  every  point  and 
bearing  of  it ! How  eagerly  I pursued  the 
mountain  paths  in  which  the  movement 
might  be  concealed  ! how  anxiously  I marked 
the  spaces  of  open  country  in  which  it  must 
be  exposed  to  the  Roman  eye ! But  the 
chart  itself!  There,  within  a space  over 
which  1 could  stretch  my  arm,  was  my  world  ! 
In  that  little  boundary  was  I to  struggle 
against  the  supremacy  that  covered  the  earth  ! 
Those  fairy  hills,  those  scarcely  visible  rivers, 
those  remote  cities,  dots  of  human  habitation, 
were  to  be  henceforth  the  places  of  siege  and 
battle,  memorable  for  the  destruction  of  hu- 
man life ; engrossing  every  energy  of  the 
mind  and  frame  of  myself  and  my  country- 
men ; and  big  with  the  fates  of  generations  on 
generations  ! 

i It  was  dusk  ; and  I was  still  devouring 
I with  my  eyes  this  chart  of  prophecy,  when 
'Constantius  entered.  “I  have  come,”  said 
| he,  gravely,  “to  bid  you  farewell  for  the 
' night.  In  two  days  I hope  we  shall  all  meet 
I again.” 

| “ No,  my  brave  son,”  I interrupted.  “We 

! do  not  leave  each  other  to-night.” 

1 He  looked  surprised,  “l  must  be  gone 


Salathiei. 


73 


this  instant.  Eleazar  has  done  his  part  with 
the  activity  of  his  honest  and  manly  mind. 
Two  miles  off,  in  the  valley  under  the  date- 
grove,  I have  left  five  hundred  of  the  finest 
fellow^  that  ever  sat  a charger.  In  half  an 
hour  JSirius  rises;  then  we  go,  and  then  let 
the  governor  of  Masada  look  to  it.  Farewell, 
and  wish  me  good  fortune.” 

“ May  every  angel  that  protects  the  right- 
eous cause  hover  above  your  head !”  I ex- 
claimed ; “ but,  no  farewell ; for  we  go 
together.” 

“ Do  you  doubt  my  conduct  of  4he  enter- 
prise'!” pronounced  he,  strongly.  “’Tistrue 
I have  been  in  the  Roman  service.  But  that 
service  I hated  from  the  bottom  of  my  soul. 
I was  a Greek  ; and  bound  to  Rome  no  longer 
than  she  could  hold  me  in  her  chain.  If  I 
could  have  had  men  to  follow  me,  I should 
have  done  in  Cyprus  what  I now  do  in  Judea. 
The  countryman  of  Leonidas,  Cimon,  and 1 
Timoleon,  was  not  born  to  hug  his  slavery.  I 
am  now  a son  of  Judea ; to  her  my  affections 
have  been  transplated,  and  to  her,  if  she  does 
not  reject  me,  shall  my  means  and  my  life  be, 
given !” 

He  relaxed  the  belt  from  his  waist,  and 
flung  it  with  his  scimetar  on  the  ground.  I 
lifted  it,  and  gave  it  again  to  his  hand. 

“No,  Constantius,”  I replied.  “I  honor 
your  zeal,  and  would  confide  in  you,  if  the 
world  hung  upon  the  balance.  But  I cannot 
bear  the  thought  of  lingering  here,  while  you 
are  in  the  field.  The  misery  of  suspense  is 
intolerable.  My  mind,  within  those  few 
hours,  has  been  on  the  rack.  I must  take  the 
chances  with  you.” 

“It  is  utterly  impossible,”  was  his  firm 
answer.  “ Your  absence  would  excite  in- 
stant suspicion.  The  Roman  spies  are  every- 
where. The  natural  result  follows,  that  our 
march  would  be  intercepted;  and  I am  not 
sure,  but  that  even  now  we  may  be  too  late. 
That  inconceivable  sagacity  by  which  the 
Romans  seem  to  be  master  of  every  man’s 
secret,  has  been  already  at  work ; troops 
were  seen  on  the  route  to  Masada  this  very 
day.  Our  horses  may  get  before  them  ; but 
if  the  garrison  be  reinforced,  the  expedition 
is  undone.  But  a still  more  immediate  result 
would  be  the  destruction  of  all  here.  Let  it 
be  known  that  the  prince  of  Naphtali  has  left 
his  palace,  and  the  dozen  squadrons  of  Thra- 
cian horse  which  I saw  within  those  four 
days  at  Tiberias,  will  be  riding  through  your 
domains  before  the  next  sunset.” 

This  reflection  checked  me.  “Well  then,” 
said  I,  “go,  and  the  protection  of  Him  whose 
pillar  of  cloud  led  his  people  through  the  sea 
and  through  the  desert,  be  your  shelter  and 
your  light  in  the  day  of  peril !” 

I pressed  his  hand;  he  turned  to  depart, 
but  came  back  ; and,  after  a slight  hesitation,' 


said — “ If  Salome  had  once  offended  her 
noble  father  by  her  flight,  the  offence  was 
mine.  Forgive  her;  lor  her  heart  is  still  the 
heart  of  your  child.  She  loves  you.  If  I 
fall,  let  the  memory  of  our  disobedience  lie 
in  my  grave!” — His  voice  stopped,  and  mine 
could  not  break  the  silence. 

“ Let  what  will  come,”  resumed  he,  with 
an  effort.  “Tell  Salome,  that  the  last  word 
on  my  lips  was  her  beloved  name !”  He  left 
the  chamber,  and  I felt  as  if  a portion  of  my 
being  had  gone  forth  from  me. 

This  day  was  one  of  the  many  festivals  of 
our  country,  and  my  halls  echoed  with  sounds 
of  enjoyment.  The  immense  gardens  glit- 
tered with  illumination  in  all  the  graceful 
devices,  of  which  our  people  were  such  mas- 
ters ; and  when  I looked  out  for  the  path  of 
Constantius,  I was  absolutely  pained  by  the 
sight  of  so  much  fantastic  pleasure,  while  my 
hero  was  pursuing  his  way  through  darkness 
and  solitude. 

At  length  the  festival  was  over.  The 
lights  twinkled  thinner  among  the  arbors,  the 
sounds  of  glad  voices  sank,  and  I saw  from 
my  casement  the  evidence  of  departure  in 
the  trains  of  torches  that  moved  up  the  sur- 
rounding hill.  The  sight  of  a starlight  sky 
has  always  been  to  me  among  the  softest  and 
surest  healers  of  the  heart ; and  I gazed  upon 
that  mighty  scene  which  throws  all  human 
cares  into  such  littleness,  until  my  composure 
returned. 

The  last  of  the  guests  had  left  the  palace 
before  I ventured  to  descend.  The  vases  of 
perfumes  still  breathed  in  the  hall  of  the 
evening  banquet ; the  alabaster  lamps  were 
still  burning ; but,  excepting  the  attendants 
who  waited  on  my  steps  at  a distance,  and 
whose  figures  might  have  been  taken  for 
statues,  there  was  not  a living  being  near 
me  of  the  Inughingand  joyous  crowd  that  had 
so  lately  glittered,  danced,  sported,  and  smiled, 
within  those  sumptuous  walls.  Yet  what 
was  this  but  a picture  of  the  common  rota- 
tion of  life!  Or,  by  a yet  more  immediate 
moral,  what  was  it  but  a picture  of  the  de- 
sertion that  might  be  coming  upon  me  and 
mine! 

I sat  down  to  extinguish  my  sullen  philo- 
sophy in  wine.  But  no  draught  that  ever 
passed  the  lips  could  extinguish  the  low  fever 
that  brooded  on  my  spirit.  I dreaded  that 
the  presence  of  my  family  might  force  out 
my  heavy  secret,  and  lingered,  with  my  eyes 
gazing  without  sight,  on  the  costly  covering 
of  the  board. 

A sound  of  music  from  an  inner  hall,  to 
which  Miriam  and  her  daughters  had  retired, 
aroused  me.  I stood  at  the  door,  gazing  on 
the  group  within.  The  music  was  a hymn, 
with  which  they  closed  the  customary  devo- 
tions of  the  day.  But  there  was  something 


74 


Salat  hie/. 


in  its  sound  to  me  that  I had  never  felt  be- 
fore. At  the  moment  when  those  sweet 
voices  were  pouring  out  the  gratitude  of 
hearts  as  innocent  and  glowing  as  the  hearts 
of  angels,  a scene  of  horror  might  be  acting. 
The  husband  of  Salome  might  be  struggling 
under  the  Roman  swords;  he  might  be  lying 
a corpse  under  the  feet  of  the  cavalry,  that 
before  morn  might  bring  the  news  of  his 
destruction  in  the  flames  that  startled  us 
from  our  sleep,  and  the  swords  that  pierced 
our  bosoms. 

And  what  beings  were  those  thus  appoint- 
ed for  the  sacrifice  1 The  lapse  of  even  a 
few  years  had  perfected  the  natural  beauty 
of  my  daughters.  Salome’s  sparkling  eye 
was  more  brilliant;  her  graceful  form  was 
moulded  into  more  easy  elegance ; and  her 
laughing  lip  was  wreathed  with  a more  play- 
ful smile.  Never  did  I see  a creature  of 
deeper  witchery.  My  Esther,  my  noble  and 
dear  Esther,  who  was,  perhaps,  the  dearer 
to  me  from  her  inheriting  a tinge  of  my 
melancholy,  yet  a melancholy  exalted  by 
genius  and  ardor  of  soul  into  a charm,  was 
this  night  the  leader  of  the  song  of  holiness. 
Her  large  uplifted  eye  glowed  with  the 
brightness  of  one  of  the  stars  on  which  it 
was  fixed.  Her  hands  fell  on  the  harp  in 
almost  the  attitude  of  prayer;  and  the  ex- 
pression of  her  lofty  and  intellectual  counte- 
nance, crimsoned  with  the  theme,  told  of  a 
communion  with  thoughts  and  beings  above 
mortality.  The  hymn  was  done;  the  voices 
had  ceased ; yet  the  inspiration  still  burned 
in  her  soul : her  hands  still  shook  from  the 
chord’s  harmonies,  sweet,  hut  of  the  wildest 
and  boldest  brilliancy ; bursts  and  flights  of 
sound,  like  the  rushing  of  the  distant  water- 
fall at  night,  or  the  solemn  echoes  and 
mighty  complainingS'of  the  forest  in  the  first 
swell  of  the  storm.  Miriam  and  Salome 
sat  beholding  her  in  silent  admiration  and 
Jove. 

The  magnificent  dress  of  the  Jewish  fe- 
male could  not  heighten  the  power  of  such 
beauty.  But  it  filled  up  the  picture.  The 
jeweled  tiaras,  the  embroidered  shawls,  the 
high-wroug’ht  and  massive  armlets,  the  silk- 
en robes  and  sashes  fringed  with  pearl  and 
diamond,  the  profusion  of  dazzling  ornament 
that  makes  the  Oriental  costume  to  this  day, 
were  the  true  habits  of  the  forms  that  then 
sat  unconscious  of  the  delighted  yet  anxious 
eye  that  drank  in  the  joy  of  their  presence. 

I saw  before  me  the  pomp  of  princedoms,  in- 
vesting forms  worthy  of  thrones. 

My  entrance  broke  off"  the  harper’s  spell, 
and  L found  it  a hard  task  to  answer  the  fond 
inquiries  and  touching  congratulations  that 
flowed  upon  me.  But  the  hour  waned,  and 
I was  again  left  alone  for  the  few  minutes 
which  it  was  my  custom  to  give  to  meditation : 


before  I retired  to  rest.  I threw  open  the 
low  door  that  opened  into  a garden  thick 
with  the  Persian  rose,  and  filling  the  air 
with  cool  fragrance.  At  my  first  glance  up- 
wards I saw  Sirius ; he  was  on  the  verge  of 
the  horizon.  The  thoughts  of  the  day  again 
gathered  over  my  soul.  I idly  combined 
the  fate  of  Constantius  with  the  decline  of 
the  star  that  he  had  taken  for  his  signal.  My 
senses  lost  their  truth,  or  contributed  to  de- 
ceive me.  I fancied  that  I heard  sounds  of 
conflict ; the  echo  of  horses’  feet  rang  in  my 
ears.  A meteor  that  slowly  sailed  across  the 
sky  struck  me  as  a supernatural  summons. 
My  brain,  fearfully  excitable  since  my  great 
misfortune,  at.  length  kindled  up  such  strong 
realities,  that  I found  myself  on  the  point  of 
betraying  the  burden  of  my  spirit  by  some 
palpable  disclosure. 

Twice  had  I reached  the  door  of  Miriam’s 
chamber,  to  tell  her  my  whole  perplexity. 
But  1 heard  the  voice  of  her  attendants  with- 
in, and  again  shrank  from  the  tale.  I 
ranged  the  long  galleries,  perplexed  with  ca- 
pricious and  strange  torments  of  the  imagi- 
nation. 

“ If  he  should  fall,”  said  I,  “ how  shall  I 
atone  for  the  cruelty  of  sending  him  upon  a 
service  of  such  hopeless  hazard — a few  pea- 
sants with  naked  breasts  against  Roman  bat- 
tlements ! What  soldier  would  not  ridicule 
my  folly  in  hoping  success  1 What  man 
would  not  charge  me  with  scorn  of  the  life 
of  my  kindred  1 The  blood  of  my  tribe  will 
be  upon  my  head  forever.  The  base  will 
take  advantage  of  their  fate  to  degrade  my 
name  with  the  nation.  The  brave  will  dis- 
dain him  who  sent  others  to  the  peril  which 
he  dared  not  share.  There  sinks  the  prince 
of  Naphtali ! In  the  grave  of  my  gallant  son 
and  bis  companions  is  buried  my  dream  of 
martial  honor;  the  sword  that  strikes  him 
cuts  to  the  ground  my  lost  ambition  of  de- 
livering my  country.” 

The  advice  of  Constantius  returned  to  my 
mind,  but,  like  the  meeting  of  two  tides,  it 
was  only  to  increase  the  tumult  within.  I 
felt  the  floor  shake  under  my  hurried  tread. 
I smote  my  forehead,  it  was  covered  with 
drops  of  agony.  The  voices  within  my  wife’s 
chamber  had  ceased.  But  was  I to  rouse  her 
from  her  sleep,  perhaps  the  last  quiet  sleep 
that  she  was  ever  to  take,  only  to  hear  intel- 
ligence that  must  make  her  miserable  1 

This  reflection  let  in  upon  mo  a new  flood 
of  anxieties.  “ If  misfortune  should  come, 
with  what  face  shall  I ever  be  able  to  look 
upon  my  family,  upon  the  daughter  that  I 
have  widowed,  upon  the  wife,  upon  the  child, 
whose  sorrow,  even  whose  silence  will  tor- 
ture me  I And  how  long  must  I keep  my 
secret  1 For  four  days ! while  I am  scarcely 
able  to  bear  its  suspense  for  an  hour.” 


Salathiel. 


75 


I leaned  my  throbbing  forehead  upon  one 
of  the  marble  tables,  as  if  to  imbibe  coolness 
from  the  stone.  I felt  a light  hand  upon 
mine.  Miriam  stood  beside  me.  “ Sala- 
thiel !”  pronounced  she  in  an  unshaken  voice. 
“There  is  something  painful  on  your  mind. 
Whether  it  be  only  a duty  on  your  part  to 
disclose  it  to  me,  I shall  not  say.  But  if  you 
think  me  fit  to  share  your  happier  hours, 
must  I have  the  humiliation  of  feeling  that  I 
am  to  be  excluded  from  your  confidence,  in 
the  day  when  those  hours  may  be  darkened  1” 

I was  silent,  for  to  speak  was  beyond  my 
strength,  but  I pressed  her  delicate  fingers  to 
my  bosom. 

“Misfortune,  my  dear  husband,”  resumed 
she,  “is  trivial,  but  when  it  reaches  the 
mind.  Oh,  rather  let  me  encounter  it  in  the 
bitterest  privations  of  poverty  and  exile ; ra- 
ther let  me  be  a nameless  outcast  to  the  latest 
year‘1  have  to  live,  than  feel  the  bitterness 
of  being  forgotten  by  the  heart  to  which, 
come  life  or  death,  mine  is  bound  for  ever 
and  ever.” 

I glanced  up  at  her.  Tears  dropped  on 
her  cheeks ; but  her  voice  was  firm.  “ I 
have  observed  you,”  says  she,  “ in  deep  agi- 
tation during  the  day:  but  I forbore  to  press 
you  for  the  cause.  I have  listened  now,  till 
long  past  midnight,  to  the  sound  of  your  feet, 
to  the  sound  of  groans  and  pangs  wrung  from 
your  bosom;  nay,  to  exclamations  and  broken 
sentences,  which  have  let  me  most  involun- 
tarily into  the  knowledge  that  this  disturb- 
ance arises  from  the  state  of  our  country.  1 
know  your  noble  nature,  Salathiel ; and  I say 
to  you,  in  this  solemn  and  sacred  hour  of  dan- 
ger, follow  the  guidance  of  that  noble  nature.” 

I cast  my  arms  about  her  neck,  and  im- 
printed a kiss  as  true  as  ever  came  from 
human  love  upon  her  lips.  She  had  taken  a 
weight  from  my  soul.  I detailed  the  whole 
design  to  her.  She  listened  with  many  a 
change  from  red  to  pale,  and  many  a tremor 
of  the  white  hand  that  lay  in  mine.  When  I 
ceased,  the  woman  in  her  broke  forth  in  tears 
and  sighs.  “ Yet,”  said  she,  “you  must  go. 
Perish  the  thought,  that  for  the  selfish  desire 
of  looking  even  upon  you  in  safety  here,  I 
should  hazard  the  dearer  honor  of  my  lord. 
It  is  right  that  Judea  should  make  the  attempt 
to  shake  off  her  tyranny.  It  is  wise  to  lose 
not  a moment,  when  the  attempt  is  fully  re- 
solved on.  You  must  be  the  leader,  and  you 
must  purchase  that  incomparable  distinction, 
by  showing  that  you  possess  the  qualities  of 
a leader.  The  people  can  never  be  deceived 
in  their  own  cause.  Kings  and  courts  may 
be  deluded  into  the  choice  of  incapacity  ; but 
the  man  whom  a people  will  follow  from 
their  firesides  to  the  field,  must  bear  the  pal- 
pable stamp  of  wisdom,  energy  and  valor.” 

“ Admirable  being  1”  I exclaimed,  “worthy 


I to  be  honored  while  Israel  has  a name.  Then, 
I have  your  consent  to  follow  Constantius. 
By  speed  [ may  reach  him,  before  he  can 
have  arrived  at  the  object  of  the  enterprise. 
Farewell,  my  best  beloved — farewell.”  She 
fell  into  my  arms  in  a passion  of  tears. 

She  at  length  recovered,  and  said,  “This 
is  weakness,  the  mere  weakness  of  surprise. 
Yes  ; go  Prince  of  Naphtali.  No  man  must 
i take  the  glory  from  you.  Constantius  is  a 
hero;  but  you  must  be  a king,  and  more  than 
a king  ; not  the  struggler  for  the  baubles  of 
royalty,  but  for  the  glories  of  the  rescuer  of 
the  people  of  God.  The  first  blow  of  the 
war  must  not  be  given  by  another,  dear  as  he 
is.  The  first  triumph,  the  whole  triumph, 
must  be  my  lord’s.”  She  knelt  down  and 
poured  out  her  soul  to  Heaven  in  eloquent 
(supplication  for  my  safety.  I listened  in 
homage.  “Now  go,”  sighed  she,  “and  re- 
member, in  the  day  of  battle,  who  will  then 
be  in  prayer  for  you.  Court  no  unnecessary 
peril ; for  if  you  perish,  which  of  us  would 
desire  to  live  !”  She  again  sank  upon  her 
knees ; and  I in  Teverent  silence  descended 
from  the  gallery. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

My  preparations  were  quickly  made.  I 
divested  myself  of  my  robes,  led  out  my  fav- 
orite barb,  flung  an  alhaik  over  my  shoulders, 
and  by  the  help  of  my  Arab  turban  might 
have  passed  for  a courier  or  a plunderer  in 
any  corner  of  Syria.  This  was  done  unseen 
of  any  eye;  for  the  crowd  of  attendants  that 
thronged  the  palace  in  the  day,  were  now 
stretched  through  the  courts,  or  on  the  ter- 
races, fast  asleep,  under  the  doubled  influence 
of  a day  of  feasting,  and  a night  of  tepid  sum- 
mer air. 

I rode  without  stopping,  till  the  sun  began 
to  throw  up  his  yellow  rays  through  the  va- 
pors of  the  lake  of  Tiberias.  To  ascertain 
alike  the  progress  of  Constantius,  and  the 
chances  of  meeting  with  some  of  those  Ro- 
man squadrons  which  were  perpetually  mov- 
ing between  the  fortresses,  I struck  off  the 
road  into  a forest,  tied  my  barb  to  a tree,  and 
set  forth  to  reconnoitre. 

Travelling  on  foot  was  the  common  mode 
of  a country  which,  like  Judea,  was  but  little 
fitted  for  the  breed  of  horses ; and  I found  no 
want  of  companions.  Pedlars,  peasants,  dis- 
banded soldiers,  and  probably  thieves,  diver- 
sified my  knowledge  of  mankind  wuthin  a 
few  miles.  I escaped  under  the  sneer  of  the 
soldier,  and  the  compassion  of  the  peasant. 
The  first  glance  at  my  wardrobe  satisfied  the 
robber  that  I was  not  worth  the  exercise  of 
I his  profession,  or  perhaps  that  I was  a brother 


76 


Salalhiel. 


of  the  trade.  But  I found  none  of  the  repul- 
siveness that  makes  the  intercourse  of  higher 
life  so  unproductive.  Confidence  was  on 
every  tongue.  All  the  secrets  of  their  fami- 
lies were  at  my  disposal ; and  I discovered, 
even  in  the  sandy  roads  of  Palestine,  that  to 
be  a judicious  listener,  is  one  of  the  first  tal- 
ents for  popularity  ail  over  the  world. 

But,  of  my  peculiar  objects  1 could  learn 
nothing,  though  every  man  whom  I met  had 
some  story  of  the  Romans.  I ascertained  to 
my  surprise,  that  the  intelligence  which  Sep- 
timius  brought  from  the  very  penetralia  of 
the  imperial  cabinet,  was  known  to  the  mul- 
titude. Every  voice  of  the  populace  was  full 
of  a tale,  which  probably  was  reckoned  among 
the  profoundest  secrets  of  the  state.  I have 
made  the  same  observation  in  later  eras,  and 
found  even  in  the  most  formal  mysteries  of  the 
most  frowning  governments,  the  rumor  of 
the  streets  outrun  the  cabinets.  So  it 
must  be  while  diplomatists  have  tongues, 
and  while  women  and  domestics  have  curi- 
osity. 

But  if  I were  to  rely  on  the  accuracy  of 
those  willing  politicians,  the  cause  of  inde- 
pendence was  without  hope.  Human  nature 
loves  to  make  itself  important;  and  the  nar- 
rator of  the  marvellous  is  always  great  ac- 
cording to  the  distention  of  his  news.  Those 
who  had  seen  a cohort,  invariably  magnified 
it  into  a legion ; a troop  of  cavalry  covered 
half  a province;  and  the  detachment 
marching  from  Asia  Minor  and  Egypt  for 
our  invasion,  were  reckoned  by  the  very 
largest  numeration  within  the  teller’s  ca- 
pacity. 

As  I was  sitting  by  a rivulet  moistening 
some  of  the  common  bread  of  the  country 
which  I had  brought  to  aid  my  disguise;  I 
entered  into  conversation  with  one  of  those 
unhoused  exiles  of  society,  whom  at  the  first 
glance  we  discern  to  be  nature’s  commoners, 
indebted  to  no  man  for  food,  raiment,  or  habi- 
tation, the  native  dweller  on  the  road.  He 
bad  some  of  the  habitual  jest  of  those  who 
have  no  care;  and  congratulated  me  on  the 
size  of  my  table,  the  meadow;  and  the  una- 
dulterated purity  of  my  potation,  the  brook. 
He  informed  me  that  he  came  direct  from  the 
Nile,  where  he  had  seen  the  son  of  Vespa- 
sian at  the  head  of  a hundred  thousand  men. 
A Syrian  soldier,  returning  to  Damascus,  who 
joined  our  meal,  felt  indignant  at  the  discredit 
thus  thrown  on  a general,  under  whom  he 
had  received  three  pike  wounds,  and  leave 
to  beg  his  way  home.  He  swore  by  Ashta- 
roth,  that  the  force  under  Titus  was  at  least 
twice  the  number.  A third  wanderer,  a 
Roman  veteran,  of  whom  the  remainder  was 
covered  over  with  glorious  patches,  arrived 
just  in  time  to  relieve  his  general  from  the 
disgrace  of  so  limited  a command,  and  ano- 


ther hundred  thousand  was  instantly  put  un- 
der his  orders ; sanctioned  by  asseverations  in 
the  name  of  Jupiter  Capitolinus,  and  as  many 
others  of  the  calender  as  the  patriot  could 
pronounce.  This  rapid  recruiting  threw  the 
former  authorities  into  the  back-ground ; and 
the  old  legionary  was,  for  the  rest  of  the 
meal,  the  undisputed  leader  of  the  conversa- 
tion. 

“To  suppose,”  said  the  veteran,  “that 
those  circumcised  dogs  can  stand  against  the 
regular-bred  Roman  general,  is  sacrilege. 
Half  his  army,  or  a tenth  of  his  army,  would 
walk  through  the  land,  north  and  south,  east 
and  west,  as  easy  as  I could  walk  through 
this  brook.” 

“No  doubt  of  it,”  said  the  Syrian,  “ if  they 
had  some  of  our  cavalry  for  flanking  and 
foraging.” 

“ Aye,  for  any  thing  but  fighting,  comrade,” 
said  the  Roman  with  a laugh. 

“ No;  you  leave  outanother  capital  quality,” 
observed  the  beggar ; “ none  can  deny,  that 
whoever  may  be  first  in  the  advance,  the 
Syrians  will  be  first  in  the  retreat.  There 
are  two  manoeuvres  to  make  a complete  sol- 
dier— how  to  get  into  battle,  and  how  to  get 
out  of  it.  Now  the  Syrians  manage  the  lat- 
ter in  the  most  undoubted  perfection.” 

“ Silence,  villain,”  exclaimed  the  Syrian, 
“or  you  have  robbed  your  last  hen-roost.” 

“He  says  nothing  but  the  truth  for  all  that,” 
interrupted  the  veteran.  “ But  neither  of  us 
taxed  your  cavalry  with  cowardice.  No;  it 
was  pure  virtue.  They  had  too  much  modes- 
ty to  take  the  way  into  the  field  before  other 
troops;  and  too  much  humanity  not  to  teach 
them  how  to  sleep  without  broken  bones.” 

The  beggar  delighted  at  the  prospect  of  a 
quarrel,  gave  the  assent  that  more  embroils 
the  fray. 

“ Mark  Anthony  did  not  say  so,”  murmured 
the  indignant  Syrian. 

“Mark  Anthony!”  cried  the  Roman,  start- 
ing upon  his  single  leg,  “ glory  to  his  name ; 
but  what  could  a fellow  like  you  know  about 
Mark  Anthony  1” 

“ I only  served  with  him,”  drily  replied  the 
Syrian. 

“ Then  here’s  my  hand  for  you,”  exclaimed 
the  brave  old  man;  “we  are  comrades.  I 
would  love  even  a dog  that  had  seen  the  face 
of  Mark  Anthony.  He  was  the  first  man 
that  I ever  carried  buckler  under.  There 
was  a soldier  for  you  ; such  men  are  not  made 
in  this  puling  age.  He  could  fight  from 
morn  till  night,  and  carouse  from  night  till 
morn,  and  never  loose  his  seat  on  his  charger 
in  the  field  for  the  day  after.  I have  seen 
him  run  half  naked  through  the  snows  in 
Armenia,  and  walk  in  armour  in  the  hottest 
day  of  Egypt.  He  loved  the  soldier,  and  the 
soldier  loved  him.  So,  comrade,  here’s  U 


Salat  hiel. 


77 


the  health  of  Mark  Anthony.  Ah,  we  shall 
never  see  such  men  again.” 

He  drew  out  a flask  of  ration  wine,  closely 
akin  to  vinegar,  of  which  he  hospitably  gave 
us  each  a cup;  and  after  pouring  a libation 
to  his  hero’s  memory,  whom  he  evidently 
placed  among  the  gods,  swallowed  the 
draught  in  which  we  devoutly  followed  his 
example. 

“Yet,”  said  the  beggar,  “if  Anthony  was 
a great  man,  he  had  left  little  men  enough 
behind  him.  There’s  for  instance,  the  pre- 
sent gay  procurator  ; six  months  in  the  gout, 
the  other  six  months  drunk,  or  if  sober,  only 
thinking  where  he  can  rob  next.  This  will 
bring  the  government  into  trouble  before  long, 
or  I’m  much  mistaken.  For  my  part,  I pledge 
myself,  if  he  should  take  any  part  of  my  pro- 
perty   ” 

“ Why  if  he  did,”  said  the  Syrian,  “ I 

give  him  credit  for  magic.  He  would  find  a 
crop  of  wheat  in  the  sand,  or  coin  money  of 
the  air.  Where  is  your  property  1” 

“ Comrade,”  said  the  veteran  laughing, 
“ recollect ; if  the  saying  be  true,  that  people 
are  least  to  be  judged  of  by  the  outside,  the 
rags  of  our  jovial  friend  must  hide  many  a 
shekel ; and  as  to  where  his  property  lies,  he 
has  a wide  estate  who  has  the  world  for  his 
portion  ; and  property  enough,  who  thinks  all 
his  own  that  he  can  lay  his  fingers  on.” 

The  laugh  was  now  loud  against  the  beg- 
gar. He,  however,  bore  all  like  one  accus- 
tomed to  the  buffets  of  fortune  ; and,  joining 
in  it,  said,  “ Whatever  may  be  my  talents  in 
that  way,  there  is  no  great  chance  of  show- 
ing them  in  this  company  ; but  if  you  should 
be  present  at  the  sack  of  Masada,  and  I should 

meet  you  on  your  way  back ” 

“ Masada  !”  exclaimed  I instinctively. 

“ Yes,  I left  the  town  three  days  ago.  On 
the  very  morning  an  order  arrived  to  prepare 
for  the  coming  of  the  great  and  good  Florus, 
who  in  his  wisdom,  feeling  the  want  of  gold, 
has  determined  to  fill  up  the  hollows  of  the 
military  chest  and  his  own  purse,  by  stripping 
the  armory  of  every  thing  that  can  sell  for 
money.  My  intelligence  is  from  the  best 
authority.  The  governor’s  principal  bath- 
slave  told  it  to  one  of  the  damsels  of  the  stew- 
ard’s department,  with  whom  the  Ethiopian 
is  mortally  in  love;  and  the  damsel,  in  a mo- 
ment of  tenderness,  told  it  to  me.  In  fact,  to 
Jet  you  into  my  secret,  I am  now  looking  out 
for  Florus,  in  whose  train  I intend  to  make 
my  way  back  into  this  gold  mine.” 

“ The  villain  !”  cried  the  veteran,  “disturb 
the  arms  of  the  dead  ! Why,  they  say  it  has 
the  very  corslet  and  buckler  that  Mark  An- 
thony wore  when  he  marched  against  the 
Idumeans.” 

“ I fear  more  the  disturbance  of  the  arms  of 
the  living,”  said  the  Syrian.  “ The  Jews  will 
6 


take  it  for  granted  that  the  Romans  are  giving 
up  the  business  in  despair ; and  if  I’m  a true 
man,  there  will  be  blood  before  I get  home.” 
“ No  fear  of  that,  fellow  soldier,”  said  the 
veteran,  gaily  ; “ you  have  kept  your  two  legs, 
and  when  they  have  so  long  carried  you  out 
of  harm’s  way,  it  would  be  the  w'orst  treat- 
ment possible  to  leave  you  in  it  at  last.  But 
there  is  something  in  what  you  say.  I had  a 
dream  last  night.  I thought  I saw  the  coun- 
try in  a blaze,  and  when  I started  from  my 
sleep  my  ears  filled  with  the  sound  like  the 
trampling  of  ten  thousand  cavalry.” 

I drew  my  breath  quick  ; and,  to  conceal 
my  emotion,  gathered  up  the  fragments  of  our 
meal.  On  completing  the  work,  I found  the 
beggar’s  eye  fixed  on  me: — he  smiled. 

“I  too  had  a dream  last  night,”  said  he, 
“and  of  much  the  same  kind.  I thought 
that  I saw  a cloud  of  cavalry  riding  as  fast  as 
horse  could  lay  roof  to  the  ground  ; I never 
saw  a more  dashing  set,  since  my  first  cam- 
paign upon  the  highways  of  this  wicked 
world.  I’ll  be  sworn  that,  whatever  their 
errand  may  be,  such  riders  will  not  come 
back  without  it.  Their  horses’  heads  were 
turned  toward  Masada,  and  I am  now  be- 
tween two  minds  whether  I may  not  mention 
my  dream  to  the  procurator  himself.” 

I found  his  keen  eye  turned  on  me  again. 
“Absurd!”  said  I.  “He  would  recommend 
you  only  to  his  lictor.” 

“I  rather  think  he  would  recommend  me 
to  his  treasurer,  for  I never  had  a dream  that 
seemed  so  like  a fact.  I should  not  be  sur- 
prised to  find  that  I had  been  sleeping  with 
my  eyes  open.” 

His  look  convinced  me  that  I was  known. 
I touched  his  hand,  while  the  soldiers  were 
busy  packing  up  their  cups,  and  showed  him 
gold.  He  smiled  carelessly.  I laid  my  hand 
on  my  poinard  ; but  he  smiled  again. 

“The  sun  is  burning  out,”  said  he,  “and 
I can  stand  talking  here  no  longer.  Farewell, 
brave  soldiers,  and  safe  home  to  you  ! Fare- 
well, A rab,  and  safe  home  to  those  that  you  are 
looking  after!”  He  stalked  away,  and  as  he 
passed  me,  said  in  a low  voice,  “ glory  to 
Naphtali !” 

After  exchanging  good  wishes  with  the 
old  men,  I followed  him  ; he  led  the  way  to- 
ward the  wood  at  a pace  which  kept  me  at 
a distance.  When  I reached  the  shade  he 
stopped,  and  prostrated  himself  before  me. 

“ Will  my  lord,”  said  he,  “ forgive  the  pre- 
sumption of  his  servant  1 This  day,  when  I 
first  met  you,  your  disguise  deceived  me.  I 
bear  intelligence  from  your  friends.”  I 
caught  the  fragment  of  papyrus  from  him, 
j and^read  : — “All’s  well.  We  have  hitherto 
met  with  nothing  to  oppose  us.  To-morrow 
night  we  shall  be  on  the  ground.  If  no  addi- 
| tion  be  made  to  the  force  within,  the  surprise 


78 


Saluthiel. 


will  be  complete.  Oar  cause  itself  is  victory. 
Health  to  all  we  love  !” 

“ ifour  mission  is  now  done,”  said  I,  “ Go 
on  to  Naphtali,  and  you  shall  be  rewarded  as 
your  activity  has  deserved.” 

“No,”  replied  he,  with  the  easy  air  of  a 
licensed  humorist,  “ I have  but  two  things  to 
think  of  in  this  world — my  time  and  my 
money  of  one  of  them  I have  infinitely  more 
then  I well  know  how  to  spend  ; and  of  the 
other  infinitely  less.  [ expected  to  have  kill- 
ed a few  days  in  going  up  to  Naphtali.  But 
that  hope  has  been  cut  off  by  my  finding  you 
half  way.  I will  now  try  Florus,  and  get  rid 
of  a day  or  two  with  that  most  worthy  of 
men.” 

“ That  I forbid,”  interrupted  I. 

“ Not,  if  you  will  trust  one  whom  your 
noble  son  has  trusted.  I am  not  altogether 
without  some  dislike  to  the  Romans  myself, 
nor  something  between  contempt  and  hatred 
for  Gessius  Floras.”  His  countenance  dark- 
ened at  the  name.  “I  tell  you,”  pronounced 
he  bitterly,  “ that  fellow’s  pampered  carcass 
this  day  contains  as  black  a mass  of  villainy 
as  stains  the  earth.  I have  an  old  account 
to  settle  with  him.”  His  voice  swelled.  “I 
was  once  no  rambler,  no  outcast  of  the  land. 
I lived  on  the  side  of  Hermon,  lovely  Her- 
mon ! 1 was  affianced  to  a maiden  of  my 

kindred,  as  sweet  a flower  as  ever  blushed 
with  love  and  joy.  Our  bridal  day  was  fixed. 
I went  to  Ctesarea-Philippi,  to  purchase  some 
marriage  presents.  When  I returned,  I found 
nothing  but  women  weeping,  and  men  furious 
with  impotent  rage.  My  bride  was  gone. 
A Roman  troop  had  surrounded  her  father’s 
house  in  the  night,  and  torn  her  away. 
Wild,  distracted,  nay,  I believe  raving  mad, 
I searched  the  land.  I kept  life  in  me  only 
that  I might  recover  or  revenge  her.  I aban- 
doned property,  friends,  all ! I at  length 
made  the  discovery.”  To  hide  his  perturba- 
tion, he  turned  away.  “Powers  of  justice 
and  vengeance,  are  there  no  thunders  for 
such  things'!  She  had  been  seen  by  that 
hoary  profligate.  She  was  carried  off  by  him. 
She  spurned  his  insults.  He  ordered  her  to 
be  chained,  to  be  starved,  to  be  lashed.” 
Tears  burst  from  his  eyes.  “ She  still  spurn- 
ed him.  She  implored  to  die.  She  called 
upon  my  name  in  her  misery.  Wretch  that 
I was,  what  could  I,  a worm,  do  under  the 
heel  of  the  tyrant ! — But  I saw  her  at  last ; 
— 1 made  my  way  into  the  dungeon.  There 
sat  she,  pale  as  the  stone  to  which  she  was 
chained  ; a silent,  sightless,  bloodless,  mind- 
less skeleton.  I called  to  her;  she  knew 
nothing.  I pressed  my  lips  to  hers:  she 
never  felt  them.  I bathed  her  cold  hands  in 
my  tears.  I fell  at  her  feet.  I prayed  to  her 
but  to  pronounce  one  word  ; to  give  some 
sign  of  remembrance ; to  look  on  me.  She 


sat  like  a statue  ; her  reason  was  gone,  gone 
for  ever  !” 

He  flung  himself  upon  the  ground,  and 
writhed  and  groaned  before  me.  To  turn 
him  from  a subject  of  such  sorrow,  I asked 
what  he  meant  to  do  by  his  intercourse  with 
Florus. 

“ To  do!  not  to  stab  him  in  his  bed  ; not 
to  poison  him  in  his  banquet;  not  to  smile 
him  with  that  speedy  death  which  would  be 
mercy  ; — no,  but  to  force  him  into  ruin  step 
, by  step;  to  gather  shame,  remorse,  and  an- 
guish round  him,  cloud  on  cloud  ; to  mix  evil 
in  his  cup  with  such  exquisite  slowness,  that 
he  shall  taste  every  drop;  to  strike  him  only 
so  far,  that  he  may  feel  the  pang  without 
bfdng  stunned  ; to  mingle  so  much  of  hope  in 
his  undoing,  that  he  may  never  enjoy  the  vi- 
gor of  despair;  to  sink  him  into  his  own  Tar- 
tarus inch  by  inch,  till  every  fibre  has  its  par- 
ticular agony.”  He  yelled,  suddenly  rose 
from  the  ground,  and  rushed  forward  and 
threaded  the  thickets  with  swiftness  that 
made  pursuit  in  vain. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

The  violence  of  the  beggar’s  anguish,  and 
the  strong  probabilities  of  his  story  engrossed 
me  so  much,  that  I at  first  regretted  the  ex- 
traordinary flight,  which  put  it  out  of  my 
power  to  offer  him  any  assistance.  I returned 
with  a feeling  of  disappointment  to  the  spot 
where  I had  left  my  horse,  and  was  riding 
toward  the  higher  country  to  avoid  the  ene- 
my’s straggling  parties,  when  I heard  a loud 
outcry.  On  a crag  so  distant,  that  I thought 
human  speed  could  scarcely  have  reached  it 
in  time,  I saw  this  strange  being  making  all 
kinds  of  signals,  sometimes  pointing  to  me, 
then  to  some  object  below  him  ; and  uttering 
a cry  which  might  easily  be  mistaken  for  the 
howl  of  a wild  beast. 

I reined  up;  it  was  impossible  for  me  to 
ascertain  whether  he  was  warning  me  of  the 
neighborhood  of  danger,  or  apprising  others 
of  my  approach;  or  even,  from  the  nature  of 
his  cries,  preparing  me  for  an  assault  by  a 
troop  of  panthers.  Great  stakes  make  man 
suspicious,  and  the  prince  of  Naphtali,  speed- 
ing to  the  capture  of  the  principal  place  of 
arms  of  the  legions,  might  be  an  object  well 
worth  a little  treachery.  I rapidly  forgot  the 
beggar’s  sorrows  in  the  consideration  of  his 
habits;  decided  "that  his  harangue  was  a piece 
of  professional  dexterity,  probably  played  off 
every  week  of  his  life  ; and  that  if  I would 
not  be  in  Roman  hands  before  night,  I must 
ride  in  the  precisely  opposite  direction  to 
that  which  his  signals  so  laboriously  recom- 
mended. 


Salathiel. 


79 


Nothing-  grows  with  more  vigor  than  the 
doubt  of  human  honesty.  I satisfied  myself 
in  a few  moments  that  I was  a dupe ; dashed 
^ through  thicket,  over  rock,  forded  torrent, 
and,  from  the  top  of  an  acclivity  at  which 
even  my  high  mettled  steed  had  looked  with 
repugnance,  saw,  with  the  triumph  of  him 
who  deceives  the  deceiver,  the  increased  vio- 
lence of  the  impostor’s  attitudes.  He  leaped 
from  crag  to  crag  with  the  activity  of  a goat ; 
and  when  he  could  do  nothing  else,  gave  the 
last  evidence  of  Oriental  vexation  by  tearing 
his  robes.  I waved  my  hand  to  him  in  con- 
temptuous farewell ; and  dismounting,  for  the 
side  of  the  hill  was  almost  precipitous,  led  my 
panting  Arab  through  beds  of  myrtle,  and 
every  lovely  and  sweet-smelling  bloom,  to  the 
edge  of  a valley,  that  seemed  made  to  shut 
out  every  disturbance  of  man. 

A circle  of  low  hills,  covered  to  the  crown 
with  foliage,  surrounded  a deep  space  of  vel- 
vet turf,  kept  green  as  the  emerald  by  the 
flow  of  rivulets,  and  the  moisture  of  a pellu- 
cid lake  in  the  centre,  tinged  with  every  co- 
lor of  the  heavens.  The  beauty  of  this  sylvan 
spot  was  enhanced  by  the  luxuriant  profusion 
of  almond,  orange,  and  other  trees,  that  in 
every  stage  of  production,  from  the  bud  to  the 
fruit,  covered  the  little  knolls  below,  and 
formed  a broad  belt  round  the  lake. 

Parched  as  I was  by  the  intolerable  thirst, 
this  secluded  haunt  of  the  very  spirit  of  fresh- 
ness looked  doubly  lovely.  My  eyes,  half 
blinded  by  the  glare  of  the  sands,  and  even 
my  mind,  exhausted  by  the  perplexities  of  the 
day,  found  delicious  relaxation  in  the  verdure 
and  dewy  breath  of  the  silent  valley.  My 
barb,  with  the  quick  sense  of  animals  accus- 
tomed to  the  travel  of  the  wilderness,  showed 
her  delight  by  playful  boundings,  the  prouder 
arching  of  her  neck,  and  the  brighter  glanc- 
ing of  her  bright  eye. 

“ Here,”  thought  I,  as  I led  her  slowly  to- 
ward the  steep  ascent,  “would  be  the  very 
spot  for  the  innocence  that  had  not  tried  the 
world,  or  the  philosophy  that  had  tried  it, 
and  found  all  vanity.  Who  could  dream  that, 
within  the  borders  of  this  distracted  land,  in 
the  very  hearing,  almost  within  the  very 
sight  of  the  last  miseries  that  man  can 
inflict  on  man,  there  was  a retreat,  which 
the  foot  of  man  perhaps  never  yet  defiled ; 
and  in  which  the  calamities  that  inflict  socie- 
ty might  be  as  little  felt  as  if  it  were  among 
the  stars.” 

A violent  plunge  of  the  barb  put  an  end 
to  my  speculation.  She  exhibited  the  wildest 
signs  of  terror,  snorted,  and  strove  to  break 
from  me;  then  fixing  her  glance  keenly  on 
the  thickets  below,  shook  in  every  limb. 
But  the  scene  was  tranquillity  itself;  the. 
chameleon  lay  basking  in  the  sun,  and  the 
only  sound  was  that  of  the  wild  doves  mur- 1 


muring  under  the  broad  leaves  of  the  palm- 
i trees. 

But  my  mare  still  resisted  every  effort  to 
lead  her  downwards,  her  ears  were  fluttering 
convulsively,  her  eyes  were  starting  from 
their  sockets ; I grew  peevish  at  the  animal’s 
unusual  obstinacy,  and  was  about  to  let  her 
suffer  thirst  for  the  day,  when  my  senses 
were  paralyzed  by  a tremendous  roar.  A 
lion  stood  on  the  summit  which  I had  but  just 
quitted.  He  was  not  a dozen  yards  above 
•my  head,  and  his  first  spring  must  have  car- 
ried me  to  the  bottom  of  the  precipice.  The 
barb  burst  away  at  once.  I drew  the  only 
weapon  I had,  a dagger, — and,  hopeless  as 
escape  was,  grasping  the  tangled  weeds  to 
sustain  my  footing,  awaited  the  plunge.  But 
the  lordly  savage  probably  disdained  so  igno- 
ble a prey,  and  continued  on  the  summit, 
lashing  his  sides  with  his  tail,  and  tearing  up 
the  ground.  He  at  length  stopped  suddenly, 
listened,  as  to  some  approaching  foot,  and 
then  with  a hideous  yell,  sprang  over  me. 
and  was  in  the  thicket  below  at  a single 
bound. 

The  whole  thicket  was  instantly  alive ; 
the  shade  which  T had  fixed  on  for  the  seat 
of  unearthly  tranquillity,  was  an  old  haunt 
of  lions,  and  the  mighty  herd  were  now 
roused  from  their  noon-day  slumbers.  Noth- 
ing could  be  grander  or  more  terrible  than 
this  disturbed  majesty  of  the  forest  kings. 
In  every  variety  of  savage  passion,  from  terror 
to  fury  they  plunged,  and  tore,  and  yelled  ; 
darted  through  the  lake,  burst  through  the 
thicket,  rushed  up  the  hills,  or  stood  baying 
and  roaring  in  defiance  against  the  coming 
invader  ; the  numbers  were  immense,  for  the 
rareness  of  shade  and  water  had  gathered 
them  from  every  quarter  of  the  desert. 

While  I stood  clinging  to  my  perilous  hold, 
and  fearful  of  attracting  their  gaze  by  the 
slightest  movement,  the  source  of  the  commo- 
tion appeared  in  the  shape  of  a Homan  soldier 
issuing,  spear  in  hand,  through  a ravine  at 
the  farther  side  of  the  valley.  He  was  pal- 
pably unconscious  of  the  formidable  place 
into  which  he  was  entering,  and  the  gallant 
clamor  of  voices  through  the  hills,  showed 
that  he  was  followed  by  others  as  bold  and 
unconscious  of  their  danger  as  himself. 

But  his  career  soon  closed  ; his  horse’s  feet 
had  scarcely  touched  the  turf,  when  a lion 
was  fixed  with  fangs  and  claws  on  the  crea- 
ture’s loins.  The  rider  uttered  a cry  of  hor- 
ror, and  for  the  instant  sat,  helplessly,  gazing 
at  the  open  jaws  behind  him.  I saw  the 
lion  gathering  up  his  flanks  for  a second 
bound,  but  the  soldier,  a figure  of  gigantic 
strength,  grasping  the  nostrils  of  the  monster 
with  one  hand,  and,  with  the  other  shorten- 
ing his  spear,  drove  the  steel  at  one  resistless 
1 thrust  into  the  lion’s  forehead.  Horse,  lion, 


80 


Salathiel. 


and  rider  fell,  and  continued  struggling  to- 
gether. 

In  the  next  moment,  a mass  of  cavalry 
came  thundering  down  the  ravine.  They 
had  broken  off  from  their  march,  through  the 
accident  of  rousing  a straggling  lion,  and 
followed  him  in  the  giddy  ardor  of  the  chase. 
The  sight  now  before  them  was  enough  to 
appal  the  boldest  intrepidity.  The  valley 
was  filled  with  the  vast  herd  ; retreat  was 
impossible,  for  the  troopers  came  still  pour- 
ing in  by  the  only  pass,  and,  from  the  sudden 
descent  of  the  glen,  horse  and  man  were 
rolled  head  foremost  among  the  lions ; nei- 
ther man  nor  monster  could  retreat.  The 
conflict  was  horrible  ; the  heavy  spears  of  the 
legionaries  plunged  through  bone  and  brain  ; 1 
the  lions,  made  more  furious  by  wounds, 
sprang  upon  the  powerful  horses  and  tore 
them  to  the  ground,  or  flew  at  the  troopers’ 
throats,  and  crushed  and  dragged  away  cuir- 
ass and  buckler.  The  valley  was  a strng- 
ling  heap  of  human  and  savage  battle  ; man, 
lion,  and  charger,  writhing  and  rolling  in 
agonies,  until  their  forms  were  undistinguish- 
able.  The  groans  and  cries  of  the  legion- 
aries, the  screams  of  the  mangled  horses, 
and  the  roars  and  howlings  of  the  lions  bleed- 
ing with  sword  and  spear,  tearing  the  dead, 
darting  up  the  sides  of  the  hills  in  terror,  and 
rushing  down  again  with  the  fresh  thirst  of 
gore,  baffled  all  conception  of  fury  and  hor- 
ror. 

Butman  was  the  conqueror  at  last;  the 
savages,  scared  by  the  spear,  and  thinned  in 
their  number,  made  a rush  in  one  body  to- 
ward the  ravine,  overthrew  every  thing  in 
their  way,  and  burst  from  the  valley,  awak- 
ing the  desert  for  many  a league  with  their 
roar. 

The  troopers  bitterly  repenting  their  rash 
exploit,  gathered  up  the  remnants  of  their 
dead  on  litters  of  boughs,  and,  leaving  many  a 
gallant  steed  to  feast  the  vultures,  slowly  re- 
tired from  the  place  of  carnage. 

The  spot  to  which  I clung,  made  ascent  or 
descent  equally  difficult ; and  during  this  ex- 
traordinary contest  I continued  embedded  in 
the  foliage,  and  glad  to  escape  the  eye  of  man 
and  brute  alike.  But  the  troop  were  gone; 
beneath  me  lay  nothing  but  a scene  of  blood, 
and  I began  to  wind  my  way  to  the  summit. 
A menace  from  below  stopped  me.  A soli- 
tary horseman  had  galloped  back  to  give  a 
last  look  to  this  valley  of  death  ; he  saw  me 
climbing  the  hill,  saw  that  I was  not  a Roman, 
and,  in  the  irritation  of  the  hour,  made  no 
scruple  of  sacrificing  a native  to  the  manes 
of  his  comrades.  The  spear  followed  his 
words,  and  ploughed  the  ground  at  my  side,  j 
His  outcry  brought  back  a dozen  of  his  i 
squadron  ; I found  myself  about  to  be  assailed  ; 
by  a general  discharge,  escape  on  foot  was  ! 


impossible,  and  I had  no  resource  but  to  de- 
scend and  give  myself  up  to  the  soldiery. 

It  was  to  warn  me  of  this  hazard  that  the 
signals  of  my  strange  companion  were  made. 
He  saw  the  advance  of  the  Roman  column 
along  the  plain.  My  suspicions  of  his  hon- 
esty drove  me  directly  into  their  road,  and 
the  chance  of  turning  down  the  valley  scarce- 
ly retarded  the  capture.  On  my  first  emerg- 
ing from  the  hills  1 must  have  been  taken. 
However  my  captors  were  in  unusual  ill 
temper.  As  an  Arab,  too  poor  to  be  worth 
plundering  or  being  made  prisoner,  I should 
have  met  only  a sneer  or  an  execration,  and 
been  turned  loose;  but  the  late  disaster  made 
the  turban  and  alhaic  odious,  and  I was  treat- 
ed with  the  wrath  due  to  a fellow-conspirator 
of  the  lions. 

To  my  request,  that  I should  be  suffered 
to  depart  in  peace  on  my  business,  the  most 
prompt  denial  was  given  ; the  story  that  I 
told  to  account  for  my  travel  in  the  track  of 
the  column,  was  treated  with  the  simplest 
scorn,  1 was  pronounced  a spy,  and  fairly- 
told,  that  my  head  was  my  own  only  till  I 
gave  the  procurator  whatever  information  it 
contained. 

Yet  I found  one  friend  in  this  evil  state  of 
my  expedition.  My  barb,  which  1 had  given 
up  for  lost  in  the  desert,  or  torn  by  the  wild 
beasts,  appeared  on  the  heights  overhanging 
our  march,  and  by  snuffing  the  wind,  and 
bounding  backwards  and  forwards  through 
the  thickets,  attracted  general  attention.  I 
claimed  her,  and  the  idea  that  the  way-sore 
and  rough-clothed  prisoner  could  be  the  mas- 
ter of  so  noble  an  animal,  raised  scorn  to  its 
most  peremptory  pitch.  In  turn  I demanded 
permission  to  prove  my  right ; and  called  the 
barb.  The  creature  heard  the  voice  with 
the  most  obvious  delight,  bounded  toward  me, 
rubbed  her  head  to  my  feet,  and  by  every 
movement  of  dumb  joy  showed  that  she  had 
found  her  master. 

But  my  requests  for  dismissal  were  idle;  I 
talked  to  the  winds;  the  rear  squadrons  of 
the  column  were  in  sight;  there  was  no  time 
to  be  lost,  I was  suffered  to  mount  the  barb, 
but  her  bridle  was  thrown  across  the  neck  of 
one  of  the  trooper’s  horses,  and  I was  march- 
ed along  to  death,  or  a tedious  captivity. 

My  blood  boiled,  when  I thought  of  what 
was  to  be  done  before  the  dawn.  “ What 
would  be  expected  from  me  by  my  people, 
and  how  lame  and  impotent  must  my  excuse 
fall  on  the  public  ear;  how  miserable  a proof 
had  I given  of  the  vigilance  and  vigor  that 
were  to  claim  the  command  of  armies  !”  I 
gnashed  my  teeth  and  writhed  in  every  nerve. 

[ My  agitation  at  length  caught  the  eye  of  a 
corpulent  old  captain,  whose  good  humored 
[visage  was  colored  by  the  deepest  infusion 
!of  the  grape.  His  strong  Thracian  charger 


Salathiel. 


81 


was  a moveable  magazine  of  the  choicest 
Falernian ; out  of  every  crevice  of  his  pack- 
saddle  and  accoutrements  peeped  the  head; 
of  a flask;  and  to  judge  by  his  frequent  re-j 
course  to  his  stores,  no  man  was  less  inclined 
to  carry  his  baggagefornothing.  Popularity  \ 
too,  attended  upon  the  captain,  and  a group 
of  young  patricians  attached  to  the  procura- 
tor’s court  were  content  to  abate  of  their 
rank,  and  ride  along  with  the  old  soldier,  in 
consideration  of  his  better  knowledge  of  the 
grand  military  science  of  providing  for  the 
road. 

In  the  midst  of  some  camp  story,  which  the 
majority  received  with  peals  of  applause,  the 
captain  glanced  upon  me;  and,  asking  “ whe- 
ther I was  not  ill,”  held  out  his  flask.  I took 
it;  and  never  did  I taste  draught  so  delicious. 
Thirst  and  hunger  are  the  true  secrets  of  lux- 
ury. I absolutely  felt  new  life  rushing  into 
me  with  the  wine.” 

“ There,”  said  the  old  man,  “ see  how  the 
fellow’s  eye  sparkles.  Falernian  is  the  doc- 
tor, after  all.  I have  had  no  other  these  forty 
years.  For  hard  knocks,  hard  watches,  and 
hard  weather,  there  is  nothing  like  the  true 
juice  of  the  vine.  Try  it  again,  Arab.”  I 
declined  the  offer  in  civil  terms. 

“ There,”  said  he,  “ it  has  made  the  man 
eloquent.  By  Hercules,  it  would  put  a 
tongue  into  the  dumb  animals.  I warrant  it 
would  make  that  mare  speak.  And  now 
that  I look  at  her,  she  is  as  prettily  made  a 
creature  as  I have  seen  in  Syria : her  nose 
would  fit  in  a drinking  cup.  What  is  her 
price,  at  a word  1” 

I answered  him,  that  “she  was  not  to  be 
sold.” 

“ W ell,  well,  say  no  more  about  it,”  re- 
plied the  jovial  old  man.  “ 1 know  you 
Arabs  make  as  much  of  a mare  as  of  a child, 
and  I never  meddle  in  family  affairs.” 

A haughty  looking  tribune,  covered  with 
embroidery,  and  the  other  coxcombry  of  the 
court  soldier,  spurred  his  foaming  charger 
between  us,  and  uttered  with  a sneer, — 
“ What,  captain,  by  Venus  and  all  the  Graces, 
giving  this  beggar  a lecture  on  philosophy, 
ora  lesson  in  politeness?  If  you  will  not 
have  the  mare,  I will.  Dismount  slave!” 

The  officers  .gathered  to  the  front,  to  see 
the  progress  of  the  affair.  I sat  silent. 

“Slave!  do  you  hear?  Dismount!  You 
will  lose  nothing,  for  you  will  steal  another 
in  the  first  field  you  come  to.” 

“ I know  but  one  race  of  robbers  in  Judea,” 
replied  1. 

The  old  captain  reigned  up  beside  me,  and 
laid,  in  a whisper — “ Friend,  let  him  have 
he  mare.  He  is  rich,  and  will  pay  you 
landsomely;  and  powerful  besides;  for  he  is 
he  nephew  of  the  procurator.  It  will  not  be| 
wise  in  you  to  put  him  in  a passion.”  ] 


“ That  fellow  shall  never  have  her,  thougti 
he  were  to  coin  these  sands  into  gold,”  re- 
plied I. 

“ Do  you  mean  to  call  us  robbers  ?”  said 
the  tribune,  with  a lowering  eye. 

“ Do  you  mean  to  stop  me  on  the  highway, 
and  take  my  property  from  me,  and  expect 
that  I shall  call  you  anything  else?”  was 
the  answer. 

“ Sententious  rogues,  those  Arabs ! Every 
soul  of  them  has  a point  or  proverb  on  his 
tongue  murmured  the  captain  to  the  group 
of  young  men,  who  were  evidently  amused  at 
seeing  their  unpopular  companion  entangled 
with  me. 

“ Slave  !”  said  the  tribune  fiercely,  “ we 
must  have  no  more  of  this.  You  have  been 
found  lurking  about  the  camp.  Will  you  be 
hanged  for  a spy  ?” 

“ A spy !”  said  I,  and  the  insult  probably 
colored  my  cheek,  “ No  ; a spy  has  no  busi- 
ness among  the  Romans.” 

“ So,”  observed  the  captain,  “ the  Arab 
seems  to  think  that  our  proceedings  are  in 
general  pretty  palpable.  Slay,  strip,  and 
burn.”  He  turned  to  the  patrician  tribune. 
“ The  fellow  is  not  worth  our  trouble.  Shall 
I let  him  go  about  his  business?” 

“ Sir,”  said  the  tribune  angrily,  “ it  is  your 
business  to  command  your  troop,  and  be  si- 
lent.” The  old  man  bit  his  lip,  and  fell  back 
to  the  line  of  his  men.  My  taunter  reigned 
up  beside  me  again.  “ Do  you  know,  robber, 
that  I can  order  you  to  be  speared  on  the  spot 
for  your  lies  ?” 

“ No  ; for  I have  told  you  nothing  but  the 
truth  of  both  of  us.  Such  an  order  too  would 
only  prove,  that  men  will  often  bid  others  do, 
what  they  dare  not  touch  with  a finger  of 
their  own.” 

The  officers,  offended  at  the  treatment  of 
their  old  favorite,  burst  into  a laugh.  The 
coxcomb  grew  doubly  indignant. 

“ Strip  the  hound,”  exclaimed  he  to  the  sol 
diers : “ it  is  money  that  makes  him  insolent.” 

“ Nature  has  done  it  at  least  for  one  of  us, 
without  the  expense  of  a mite  replied  I, 
calmly. 

“Off  with  his  turban.  Those  fellows  car- 
ry coin  in  every  fold  of  it.” 

The  officers  looked  at  each  other  in  sur- 
prise ; the  captain  hardly  suppressed  a con- 
temptuous execration  between  his  lips.  The 
very  troopers  hesitated. 

“ Soldiers  !”  said  I,  in  the  same  unaltered 
tone,  “ I have  no  gold  in  my  turban.  An 
Arab  is  seldom  one  of  those — the  outside  of 
whose  head  is  better  worth  than  the  in.” 

The  perfumed  and  curled  locks  of  the  tri- 
bune, surmounted  by  a helmet,  sculptured 
and  plumed  in  the  most  extravagant  style, 
caught  every  eye  ; and  the  shaft,  slight  as  it 
was,  went  home. 


82 


Salat  hi  el. 


“ I’ll  pluck  the  robber  off  his  horse  by  the 
beard  exclaimed  the  tribune,  spurring  his 
horse  upon  me,  and  advancing  his  hand. 

I threw  open  my  robe,  grasped  my  dagger, 
and  sternly  pronounced, — “ There  is  an  oath 
in  our  line,  that  the  man  who  touches  the 
beard  of  an  Arab,  dies.”  He  was  not  pre- 
pared for  the  action ; hesitated,  and  finally 
wheeled  from  me.  The  old  captain  burst 
out  into  an  involuntary  huzza! 

“ Take  the  beggar  to  the  camp said  the 
tribune,  as  he  rode  away.  “ I hate  all  scoun- 
drels and  he  glanced  round  the  spectators. 

“ Then,”  exclaimed  I,  after  him,  as  a part- 
ing blow,  “ you  have  at  least  one  virtue,  for 
you  can  never  be  charged  with  self-love.” 

This  woman-war  made  me  popular  on  the 
spot.  The  tribune  had  no  sooner  turned  his 
horse’s  head,  than  the  officers  clustered  to- 
gether in  laughter.  Even  the  iron  visages 
of  the  troopers  relaxed  into  grim  smiles. 
The  old  jocular  captain  was  the  only  one 
still  grave. 

“There  rides  not  this  day  under  the  cano- 
py of  Heaven,”  murmured  he,  “ a greater 
puppy  than  Caius  Sempronins  Catulus,  tri- 
bune of  the  thirteenth  legion,  by  his  mother’s 
morals,  and  the  Emperor’s  taste.  Why  did 
not  the  coxcomb  stay  at  home,  and  show  off 
his  trappings  among  the  supper-eaters  of  the 
palatine  1 He  might  have  powdered  his 
ringlets  with  gold-dust,  washed  his  lily  hands 
in  rose-water,  and  perfumed  his  Indian  hand- 
kerchief with  myrrh,  as  well  there  as  here; 
for  he  does  nothing  else.  Except,”  and  he 
clenched  the  heavy  hilt  of  his  falchion,  “in- 
sult men,  who  have  seen  more  battles  than  he 
has  seen  years ; who  know  better  service 
than  figuring  in  ball-rooms,  or  cowing  in 
courts ; and  the  least  drop  of  whose  blood  is 
worth  all  that  will  ever  run  in  his  effbminate 
veins.  But  I have  not  done  with  him  ypt. 
As  for  you,  friend,”  said  he,  “ I am  sorry  to 
stop  you  on  your  way.  But  as  this  affair  will 
be  magnified  by  that  fool’s  tongue,  you  must 
be  brought  to  the  procurator.  However,  the 
camp  is  only  a few  miles  off;  you  will  be 
asked  a few  questions,  and  then  left  to  follow 
your  will.”  He  little  dreamed  how  I re- 
coiled from  that  interview. 

To  shorten  the  time  of  my  delay,  the  good- 
natured  old  man  ordered  the  squadron  to 
mend  their  pace;  and  in  half  an  hour,  we 
saw  the  noon-encampment  of  my  sworn  ene- 
my, lifting  its  white  tops  and  scarlet  flags 
among  the  umbrage  of  a forest,  deep  in  the 
valley  at  our  feet. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

The  squadron  drew  up  at  the  entrance  of 
the  procurator’s  tent;  and,  with  a crowd 


of  alarmed  peasants  captured  in  the  course 
of  the  day,  I was  delivered  over  to  be  ques- 
tioned by  this  man  of  terror.  The  few  min- 
utes which  passed  before  I was  called  to  take 
my  turn,  were  singularly  painful.  This  was 
not  fear;  for  the  instant  sentence  of  the  axe 
would  have  been  almost  a relief  from  the  hope- 
I less  and  fretful  thwartings  sown  so  thickly 
| in  my  path.  But  to  have  embarked  in  a 
noble  enterprise,  and  to  perish,  without  use  ; 
to  have  arrived  almost  within  sight  of  the 
point  of  my  desires,  and  then,  without  strik- 
; mg  a blow,  to  be  given  up  to  shame,  stung 
me  like  a serpent. 

My  heart  sprang  to  my  lips,  when  I heard 
myself  called  to  the  presence  of  Floras.  He 
was  lying  upon  a couch,  with  his  never-fail- 
ing cup  before  him,  and  turning  over  some 
papers,  with  a shaking  hand.  Care  or  con- 
science had  made  ravages  in  him,  since  I saw 
him  last.  He  was  still  the  same  figure 
of  excess ; but  his  cheek  was  hollow  : the 
few  locks  on  his  head  had  grown  a more 
snowy  white;  and  the  little,  pampered 
hand  was  thin  and  yellow  as  the  claw  of 
the  vulture  that  he  so  much  resembled  in  his 
soul. 

With  his  head  scarcely  lifted  from  the 
table,  and  with  eyes  that  seemed  more  shut 
then  open,  he  asked,  “ whence  I had  come, 
and  whither  I was  going  1”  My  voice,  not- 
withstanding the  attempt  to  disguise  it, 
struck  his  acute  ear.  His  native  keenness 
was  awake  at  once.  He  darted  a fiery 
glance  at  me,  and,  striking  his  hand  on  the 
table,  exclaimed — “By  Hercules,  it  is  the 
Jew !”  My  altered  costume  again  perplexed 
him.  “Yet,”  said  he,  in  soliloquy,  “that 
fellow  went  to  Nero,  and  must  have  been 
executed.  Ho!  send  in  the  tribune  who  took 
him.”  Catulus  entered  ; and  his  account  of 
me  was,  luckily,  contemptuous  in  the  ex- 
treme. 1 was  “ a notorious  robber,  who  had 
stolen  a handsome  horse,  perfectly  worthy  of 
the  stud  of  the  procurator.”  I panted  with 
the  hope  of  escape,  and  was  gradually  mov- 
ing to  the  door.  “ Stand,  slave,”  cried  Floras : 
“I  have  my  doubts  of  you  still;  and  as  the 
public  safety  admits  of  no  mistake,  I have  no 
alternative.  Tribune!  order  in  the  lictors. 
He  must  be  scourged  to  confession.”  The 
lictors  were  summoned  ; and  I was  to  be  torn 
by  Roman  torturers. 

A tumult  arose  outside,  and  a man  rushed 
in  with  the  lictors,  exclaiming,  “Justice, 
most  mighty  Florus.  By  the  majesty  of 
Rome,  and  the  magnanimity  of  the  most  il- 
lustrious of  governors,  I call  for  justice  against 
my  plunderer,  my  undoer,  the  robber  of  the 
son  of  El  Hakim  of  his  most  precious  trea- 
sure.” 

Florus  recognised  the  clamorer  as  an  old 
1 acquaintance,  and  desired  him  to  state  his 


Salathiel. 


83 


complaint,  and  with  as  much  brevity  as  pos- 
sible. 

“ Last  night,”  said  the  man,  “ I was  the 
happy  possessor  of  a mare,  fleet  as  the  ostrich, 
and  shapely  as  the  face  of  beauty.  I had 
intended  her  as  a present  for  the  most  illus- 
trious of  procurators,  the  great  Florus,  whom 
the  gods  long  preserve.  In  the  hour  of  my 
rest,  the  spoiler  came,  noiseless  as  the  fall  of 
a turtle’s  feather,  but  cruel  as  the  viper’s 
tooth.  When  I arose  my  mare  was  gone. 
I was  in  distraction.  I tore  my  beard;  I 
beat  my  head  upon  the  ground ; I cursed  the 
robber  wherever  he  went,  to  the  sun-rising 
or  the  sun-setting,  the  mountains  or  the  val- 
leys. But  fortune  sits  on  the  banner  of  my 
lord  the  procurator;  and  I came  for  hope  to 
his  conquering  feet.  In  passing  through  the 
camp,  what  did  I see  but  my  treasure — the 
delight  of  my  eyes,  the  drier  up  of  my  tears  ! 
I have  come  to  claim  justice,  and  the  resto- 
ration of  my  mare,  that  I may  have  the  hap- 
piness to  present  her  to  the  most  renowned 
of  mankind.” 

I had  been  occupied  with  the  thought  whe- 
ther I should  burst  through  the  lictors,  or  rush 
on  the  procurator.  But  the  length  and  loud- 
ness of  this  outcry  engrossed  every  one.  The 
orator  was  my  friend,  the  beggar.  He  point- 
ed fiercely  to  me.  If  looks  could  kill,  he 
would  not  have  survived  the  look  that  I gave 
the  traitor  in  return. 

“ There,”  said  Florus,  “ is  your  plunderer. 
Sabat,  have  you  ever  seen  him  before'!” 

The  beggar  strode  insolently  towards  me. 
“ Seen  him  before ! aye,  a hundred  times. 
What ! Ben  Ammon,  the  most  notorious 
thief  from  the  Nile  to  the  Jordan.  My  lord, 
every  child  knows  him.  Hah,  by  the  gods 
of  my  fathers,  by  my  mother’s  bosom,  by 
shaft  and  by  shield,  he  has  stolen  more  horses 
within  the  last  twenty  years,  than  would  re- 
mount all  the  cavalry  from  Beersheba  to 
Damascus  ! It  was  but  last  night  that,  as  I 
was  leading  my  mare,  the  gem  of  my  eyes, 
my  pearl — ” 

I now  began  to  perceive  the  value  of  my 
eloquent  friend’s  interposition. 

“ An  Arab  horse-thief! — that  alters  the 
case,”  said  the  procurator.  “Ho!  did  you 
not  say  that  the  mare  was  intended  for  me  ! 
Lictor,  go  and  bring  this  wonder  to  the 
door.” 

The  voluble  son  of  El  Hakim  followed  the 
lictor;  and  returned,  crying  out  more  fu- 
riously than  before  against  me.  His  “ pearl, 
the  delight  of  his  eyes,  was  spoiled — was 
utterly  unmanageable.  I had  put  some  of 
my  villainous  enchantment  upon  her ; for 
which  I was  notorious.” 

The  procurator’s  curiosity  was  excited  ; 
he  rosp,  and  went  to  take  a view  of  the  en- 
chanted animal  I followed  ; and  certainly 


nothing  could  be  more  singular  than  the 
restiveness  which  the  son  of  El  Hakim  con- 
trived to  make  her  exhibit.  She  plunged — 
she  bounded  ; bit,  reared,  and  flung  out  in 
all  directions.  Every  attempt  to  lead  or 
mount  her  was  foiled  in  the  most  complete, 
yet  most  ludicrous  manner.  The  young 
cavalry  officers  came  from  all  sides;  ana 
could  not  be  restrained  from  boisterous  laugh- 
ter, even  by  the  presence  of  the  procurator. 
Florus  himself,  at  last,  became  among  the 
loudest.  Even  I,  accustomed  as  I was  to 
daring  horsemanship,  was  surprised  at  the 
eccentric  agility  of  this  unlucky  rider.  He 
was  alternately  on  the  animal’s  back  and 
under  her  feet;  he  sprang  upon  her  from 
behind;  he  sprang  over  her  head;  he  stood 
upon  the  saddle ; but  all  in  vain  ; he  had 
scarcely  touched  her,  when  she  threw  him 
up  in  the  air  again,  amid  the  perpetual  roar 
of  the  soldiery. 

At  length,  with  a look  of  dire  disappoint- 
ment, he  gave  up  the  task ; and  scarcely  able 
to  drag  his  limbs  along,  prostrated  himself 
before  Florus,  praying  that  he  would  order 
the  Arab  thief  to  unsay  the  spells  that  had 
turned  “ the  gentlest  mare  in  the  world  into 
a wild  beast.”  The  consent  was  given  with 
a haughty  nod;  and  I advanced  to  play  my 
part  in  a performance,  of  whose  objects  I had 
not  a conception.  The  orator  delivered  the 
barb  to  me  with  a look  so  expressive  of  cun- 
ning, sport,  and  triumph,  that,  perplexed  as  I 
was,  I could  not  avoid  a smile.  My  experi- 
ment was  rapidly  made.  The  mare  knew 
me,  and  was  tractable  at  once.  This  only 
confirmed  the  charge  of  my  necromancy. 
But  the  son  of  El  Hakim  professed  himself 
altogether  dissatisfied  with  so  expeditious  a 
process,  and  demanded  that  I should  go 
through  the  regular  steps  of  the  art.  In  the 
midst  of  the  fiercest  reprobation  of  my  un- 
hallowed dealings,  a whisper  put  me  in  pos- 
session of  his  mind. 

I now  went  through  the  process  used  by 
the  travelling  jugglers;  and  if  the  deepest 
attention  of  an  audience  could  reward  my 
talents,  mine  received  unexampled  reward. 
My  gazings  on  the  sky,  whisperings  in  the 
barb’s  ear,  grotesque  figures  traced  on  the 
sand,  wild  gestures  and  mysterious  jargon, 
thoroughly  absorbed  the  intellects  of  the 
honest  legionaries.  If  I had  been  content 
with  fame,  I might  have  spread  my  reputa- 
tion through  the  Roman  camps,  as  a conjuror 
of  the  first  magnitude. 

I was,  however,  beginning  to  be  weary  of 
my  exhibition,  and  longed  for  the  signal ; 
when  Sabat  approached,  and  loudly  testifying 
that  I had  clearly  performed  my  task,  threw 
the  bridle  over  ’he  animal’s  head  and  whis- 
pered, “ Now  !” 

My  heart  panted ; my  hand  was  on  the 


84 


Salathiel. 


mane ; I glanced  round  to  see  that  all 
was  safe  before  I gave  the  spring — when 
Florus  screamed  out,  “The  Jew!  by  Tar- 
tarus, it  is  the  Jew  himself.  Drag  down  the 
circumcised  dog.”  With  cavalry  on  every 
side  of  me  forcible  escape  was  out  of  the 
question. 

“ Undone,  undone  !”  were  the  words  of  my 
wild  friend  as  he  passed  me.  And  when  I 
saw  him  once  more  in  the  most  earnest  con- 
versation with  Florus,  I concluded  that  the 
discovery  was  complete.  I was  in  utter  de- 
spair. I stood  sullenly  waiting  for  the  worst, 
and  gave  an  internal  curse  to  the  more  than 
malevolence  of  fortune. 

The  conversation  continued  so  long  that 
the  impatience  of  those  round  me  began  to 
break  out. 

“ On  what  possible  subject  can  the  procu- 
rator suffer  that  mad  fellow  to  have  so  long 
an  audience  1”  said  a young  patrician. 

“On  every  possible  subject,  I should  con- 
ceive, from  the  length  of  the  discussion,”  was 
the  reply. 

“Florus  knows  his  man,”  said  a third; 
“ that  mad  fellow  is  a regular  spy,  and  re- 
ceives more  of  the  Emperor’s  coin  in  a month 
than  we  do  in  a year.” 

The  tribune  now  broke  into  the  circle,  and, 
with  a look  of  supreme  scorn,  affectedly  ex- 
claimed, “Come,  knight  of  the  desert,  sove- 
reign of  the  sands,  let  us  have  a specimen 
of  your  calling.  Stand  back,  officers;  this 
egg  of  Ishmael  is  to  quit  plunder  so  soon,  that 
he  would  probably  like  to  die  as  he  lived — 
in  the  exercise  of  his  trade.  Here,  slave, 
show'  us  the  most  approved  method  of  getting 
possession  of  another  man’s  horse.” 

I stood  in  indignant  silence.  The  tribune 
threatened.  A thought  struck  me  : I bowed 
to  the  command,  let  the  barb  loose,  and 
proceeded  according  to  my  theory  of  horse- 
stealing. 

I approached  noiselessly,  gesticulated,  made 
mystic  movements,  and  gibbered  witchcraft 
as  before.  The  animal,  with  natural  docility, 
suffered  my  experiments.  1 continued  urg- 
ing her  towards  the  thinner  side  of  the  circle. 
“ Now,  noble  Romans,”  said  I,  “ look  care- 
fully to  the  next  spell,  for  it  is  the  triumph 
of  the  art.” 

Curiosity  was  in  every  countenance.  I 
made  a genuflexion  to  the  four  points  of  the 
compass,  devoted  a gesture  of  peculiar  so- 
lemnity to  the  procurator’s  tent,  and  while 
all  eyes  were  drawn  in  that  direction,  sprang 
on  the  barb’s  back,  and  was  gone  like  an 
arrow. 

I heard  a clamor  of  surprise,  mingled  with 
outrageous  laughter,  and,  looking  round,  saw 
the  whole  crowd  of  the  loose  riders  of  the 
encampment  in  full  pursuit  up  the  hill. 
Florus  was  at  his  tent  door,  pointing  towards 


1 me  with  furious  gestures.  The  trumpets 
j were  calling,  the  cavalry  mounting:  I 

:had  roused  the  whole  activity  of  the  little 
1 army. 

| The  slope  of  the  valley  was  long  and 
'steep;  and  the  heavy  horsemanship  of  the 
legionaries,  who  were  perhaps  not  very  anx- 
ious for  my  capture,  soon  threw  them  out. 

1 1 A little  knot  of  the  more  zealous  alone  kept 
|up  a pursuit,  from  which  I had  no  fears.  An 
abrupt  rock  in  the  middle  of  the  ascent  at 
length  hid  them  from  me.  To  gain  a last 
view  of  the  camp,  I doubled  round  the  rock, 
and  saw,  a few  yards  below  me,  the  tribune, 

| with  his  horse  completely  blown.  I owed 
him  a debt,  partly  on  my  own  account,  and 
partly  on  that  of  the  old  captain,  which  I had 
determined  to  discharge  at  the  earliest  possi- 
ble time.  I darted  upon  him.  He  was  all 
astonishment : a single  buffet  from  my  nuked 
hand  knocked  the  helpless  taunter  off  his 
charger.  “ Tribune,”  cried  I,  as  he  lay  upon 
the  ground,  “you  have  had  one  specimen  of 
my  art  to-day,  now  you  shall  have  another. 
Learn  in  future  to  respect  an  Arab.”  I 
caught  his  horse’s  bridle,  gave  the  animal  a 
lash,  and  we  bounded  away  together.  'The 
scene  was  visible  to  the  whole  camp;  the 
troopers  who  had  reined  up  on  the  de- 
clivity, gave  a roar  of  merriment,  and  I 
heard  the  old  corpulent  captain’s  laugh 
above  it  all. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

I had  escaped  ; but  the  delay  was  ruinous. 
The  sun  sank  when  I reached  the  brow  of 
the  mountain,  and  Masada  lay  many  a weary 
mile  forward.  I cast  off  the  tribune’s  horse, 
thus  giving  his  insolent  master  evidence  that 
I did  not  understand  the  main  point  of  my 
trade,  and  stood  pondering  to  what  point  of 
the  mighty  ridge  that  rose  blue  along  the 
horizon  I should  turn,  when,  in  the  plunge 
of  the  horse,  as  he  felt  himself  at  liberty,  his 
saddle  came  to  the  ground.  The  possibility 
of  its  containing  reports  of  the  state  of  the 
enemy  led  me  to  examine  its  pockets  ; they 
were  stuffed  with  letters  worthy  of  the  high- 
lest  circles  of  Italian  high  life;  the  in- 
i' spelled  registers  of  vapidity  at  a loss  how  to 
jlose  its  time;  of  libertinism  sick  of  indu- 
lgence; and  of  pecuniary  embarrassment 
(driven  to  the  most  hopeless  and  whimsical 
resources. 

A glance  at  a few  of  these  epistles  was 
1 enough,  and  I scattered  into  the  air  the  repu- 
tations of  half  the  high  born  maids  and  ma- 
trons of  Rome.  But,  as  I was  turning 
away  with  an  instinctive  exclamation  of 
i scorn  at  this  compendium  of  patrician  life 


Salathiel. 


85 


my  eye  was  caught  by  a letter  addressed  to 
the  governor  of  Masada.  In  opening  it,  I 
committed  no  violence  of  diplomacy;  for  it 
held  no  secret,  other  than  an  angry  remission  \ 
of  his  allegiance  by  some  wearied  fair  one, 
who  announced  her  intended  marriage  with 
the  tribune. 

My  revenge  was  thus  to  go  farther  than  my 
intent ; for  I deprived  him  of  the  personal  tri- 
umph of  delivering  this  calamitous  despatch 
to  his  rival.  Yet,  on  second  thoughts,  con- 
ceiving that  some  cipher  might  lurk  under 
its  absurdity,  I secured  the  paper,  and  giving 
the  rein,  left  the  whole  secret  correspond- 
ence of  debt,  libel  and  love,  to  the  delight  of 
mankind. 

I flew  along;  my  indefatigable  barb,  as  if 
she  felt  her  master’s  anxieties,  pul  forth 
double  speed.  But  I had  yet  a fearful  length 
to  traverse.  The  night  fell  thick  and  rude ; 
but  I had  no  time  to  think  of  rest  or  shelter.  I 
pushed  on.  The  wind  rose,  and  wrapt  me 
in  whirls  of  sand.  I heard  the  roar  of  waters. 
The  ground  became  fractured,  and  full  of  the 
loose  fragments  that  fall  from  rocky  hills.  I 
discovered  only  that  I was  at  the  foot  of  the 
ridge,  and  had  lost  my  way.  In  this  embar- 
rassment I trusted  to  the  sagacity  of  my  steed. 
But  thirst  led  her  directly  to  the  bed  of  one 
of  the  mountain  torrents,  and  the  phosphoric 
gleam  of  waters  alone  saved  us  both  from  a 
plunge  over  a precipice  deep  enough  to  extin- 
guish every  appetite  and  ambition  in  the 
round  of  this  bustling  world. 

*■  To  find  a passage  or  an  escape  I alighted. 
The  torrent  bellowed  before  me.  A wall  of 
rock  rose  on  the  opposite  side.  After  long 
climbings  and  descents,  I found  that  I had 
descended  too  deep  to  return.  Oh,  how  I 
longed  for  trace  of  man,  for  the  feeblest  light 
that  ever  twinkled  from  cottage  window!  I 
felt  the  plague  of  helplessness.  To  attempt 
the  waters  was  impossible.  To  linger  where 
1 stood  till  dawn,  was  misery. 

“ What  would  be  going  on  in  the  mean 
while  1 Perhaps,  at  the  very  time  while 
I was  standing  in  wretched  doubt,  imprison- 
ed among  those  pestilent  cliffs,  shivering 
with  the  spray  and  the  storm,  and  yet  more 
chilled  with  bitter  incertitude,  the  deed 
was  doing!  Constantius  was  with  ineffect- 
ual gallantry  assaulting  the  fortress;  my 
brave  kinsmen  were  pouring  out  their  lives 
under  the  Roman  spears;  and  I was  not 
there  !” 

A fitful  sound  came  mingling  with  the 
roar  of  the  cataract ; it  swelled,  and  vanished 
away,  like  the  rustling  of  the  gale.  A trum- 
pet rang,  but  so  feebiy,  that  nothing  but  the 
keenness  of  an  ear  straining  to  catch  the 
slightest  sound  could  have  distinguished  it. 

I heard  remote  shouts ; they  deepened  ; the 
echo  of  trumpets  followed,  “ The  assault 


I had  begun  ! The  work  of  glory  and  death 
j was  doing.  Every  instant  cost  a life.  The 
hailstones  that  bruised  me  were  not  thicker 
: than  the  arrows  that  were  then  smiting  down 
my  people.  Yet  there  was  I,  held  like  a wolf 
in  the  pitfall  !” 

Even  where  the  combat  was  being  fought, 
baffled  my  conception.  It  might  be  in  the 
clouds,  or  under  ground,  on  the  opposite  of 
the  black  ridge  before  me,  or  many  a league 
beyond  the  reach  of  my  exhausted  limbs  and 
drooping  steed  ; all  was  darkness  to  the  eye 
and  the  mind. 

j A light  flashed  down  a ravine,  leading  in- 
to the  heart  of  the  mountains:  another  and 
another  rose.  Masada  stood  upon  the  moun- 
tain’s brow ! 

I plunged  into  the  torrent — was  beaten 
down  by  the  billows — was  swept  along 
through  narrow  necks  of  rock,  and,  half  suf- 
focated, was  hurled  up  again,  to  find  rnyself 
ion  the  opposite  shore.  Wet  and  weary,  I 
'less  climbed  than  tore  my  way  upwards.  But 
the  torrent  had  bore  me  far  below  the  ravine. 
Before  me  was  a gigantic  rampart  of  rock. 
But  the  time  was  flying.  I sprang  with 
fierce  agility  from  fissure  to  fissure.  1 dragged 
myself  up  the  face  of  the  precipice  by  the 
tufted  weeds  and,  chance  brushwood.  I 
swung  from  point  to  point  by  the  few  pro- 
jecting branches,  that  yet  broke  away  almost 
in  my  grasp;  until,  with  my  hands  excoriated, 
my  limbs  stiff  and  bleeding,  and  my  head 
reeling,  I reached  the  pinnacle. 

Was  I under  the  dominion  of  a spell?  was 
the  power  of  some  fiend,  raised  to  mock  me  ? 
All  was  darkness  as  far  as  the  eye  could 
pierce:  the  heaviest  veil  of  midnight  hung 
upon  the  earth.  There  was  utter  silence. 
Not  the  slightest  breath  touched  upon  the 
ear. 

For  a while  the  thought  of  some  strange 
illusion  was  paramount;  then  carne  the 
frightful  idea  that  the  illusion  was  in  myself; 
that  in  the  effort  to  gain  the  ascent,  I had 
strained  eye  and  ear,  until  I could  neither 
hear  nor  see  ; that  I still  was  within  sight 
and  sound  of  battle,  but  insensible  to  the  im- 
pressions of  the  external  world  for  ever.  Im- 
mortality under  this  exclusion ! A death- 
lessness of  the  deaf  and  blind  ! The  thought 
struck  me  with  a force  inconceivable  by  all 
minds  but  one  sentenced  like  mine  ! 

I cried  aloud.  A flood  of  joy  rushed  into 
my  heart  when  I heard  my  voice  answered  ; 

1 though  it  was  but  by  the  neigh  of  my  barb 
below,  which  probably  felt  itself  as  ill-placed 
as  its  master.  I now’  used  my  ear  as  the 
i guide,  and  cautiously  descending  the  farther 
side  of  the  ridge,  was  soon  on  comparatively 
level  ground,  the  remnant  of  a forest.  My  foot 
struck  against  a human  body ; T spoke ; the 
i answer  was  a groan,  and  an  entreaty  that  1 


86 


Salathiel. 


should  bear  a small  packet,  which  was  put 
into  my  hands  with  a feeble  pressure,  to  “ the 
prince  of  Naphtali!”  In  alarm  and  as- 
tonishment, I raised  the  sufferer  from  the 
thorns  in  which  he  could  scarcely  breathe ; 
gave  him  some  water  from  my  flask,  and 
after  many  an  effort,  in  which  I thought  that 
life  would  depart  every  moment,  he  told  me 
that  “ he  was  the  unfortunate  leader  of  the 
assault  of  Masada.”  Constant! us  lay  in  my 
arms ! 

“ Where  I am,”  said  he,  “ how  I came 
here,  or  any  thing,  hut  that  we  are  undone,  I 
cannot  conceive.  My  last  recollection  was 
that  of  fixing  the  ladder  to  the  inner  rampart. 
We  had  made  our  way  good  so  far  without 
much  loss.  The  garrison  was  weakened  by 
detachments  sent  out  to  plunder  for  the  ar- 
rival of  the  procurator.  I attacked  at  mid- 
night. To  surprise  a Roman  fortress  was,  I 
well  know,  next  to  impossible;  and  no  man 
ever  found  a Roman  garrison  without  bravery. 
But  our  bold  fellows  did  wonders.  Every 
thing  was  driven  from  the  first  rampart ; we 
made  more  prisoners  than  we  knew  what  to 
do  with  ; and  in  the  midst  of  all  kinds  of  re- 
sistance, we  laid  the  ladders  to  the  second 
wall.  But  the  garrison  was  still  too  strong 
for  us.  Our  easy  conquest  of  the  first  line 
might  have  been  a snare,’  for  the  battlements 
before  us  exhibited  an  overwhelming  force. 
We  fought  on  ; but  the  ladders  were  broken 
with  showers  of  stones  from  the  engines. 
The  business  looked  desperate;  but  I had 
made  up  my  mind  not  to  go  back  after  having 
once  got  in;  and,  rallying  the  men,  carried 
a ladder  through  a storm  of  lances  and 
arrows  to  the  foot  of  the  main  tower.  I 
was  bravely  followed,  and  we  were  within 
grasp  of  the  battlement,  when  I saw  a co- 
hort rush  out  from  a sally-port  below.  This 
was  fatal ; the  foot  of  the  rampart  was  clear- 
ed at  once;  the  ladders  were  flung  down; 
and  I suppose  it  is  owing  to  the  ill-judged 
fidelity  of  some  of  my  followers,  that  [ am 
unfortunate  enough  to  find  myself  here  and 
alive.” 

During  the  endless  hours  of  this  miserable 
night,  I labored,  with  scarcely  a hope,  to 
keep  life  in  my  heroic  son.  My  coming  had 
saved  him.  The  exposure  of  his  wounds 
must  have  destroyed  him  before  morning. 
We  consulted  sadly  on  our  next  course.  1 
suggested  the  possibility  of  gaining  the  fort- 
ress by  a renewal  of  the  attack,  while  the 
garrison  were  unprepared,  or  perhaps  indulg- 
ing themselves  in  carousal  or  sleep  after  suc- 
cess. The  necessity  of  some  attempts  was 
strongly  in  my  mind,  and  I expressed  my  de- 
termination to  run  the  hazard,  if  I could  find 
where  the  remnant  of  our  troop  had  taken 
refuge.  But  this  was  the  first  difficulty. 
Signals  of  any  kind  must  rouse  the  vigilance 


of  the  Romans.  The  fortress  was  above  our 
heads;  and  to  collect  the  men  during  the 
night  was  impossible. 

While  I watched  the  restless  tossings  of 
Oonstantius,  a light  stole  along  the  ground 
at  a distance.  My  first  idea  was,  that  a 
Roman  patrol  was  coming,  to  extinguish  our 
last  remains  of  hope.  But  the  fight  was 
soon  perceived  to  be  in  the  hand  of  some  one 
cautious  of  discovery.  To  keep  its  bearer  at 
a distance,  I followed  the  track,  and  grasped 
him. 

“ I surrender,”  said  the  captive,  perfectly 
at  his  ease;  “Long  life  to  the  Emperor!” 
He  lifted  the  lamp  to  my  face,  and  burst  into 
laughter.  “ May  I have  a Roman  falchion 
through  me,”  said  he,  “but  I think  we  were 
born  under  the  same  planet.  By  all  the  food 
that  has  entered  my  lips  this  day,  I took  your 
highness  for  a thief;  and,  pardon  the  word, 
for  a Roman  one.  I have  been  running  after 
you  the  whole  day  and  night.”  He  con- 
tinued to  talk  and  writhe  with  a kind  of  mad 
merriment.  I could  not  obtain  an  answer  to 
my  questions,  of  what  led  him  there — how  he 
could  guide  us  out  of  the  forest — or  what  news 
he  brought  from  the  procurator.  He  less  walk- 
ed than  danced  before  me  through  the  thick- 
ets, as  our  scene  with  Florus  recurred  to  his 
fantastic  mind. 

“ Never  was  a trick  so  capital  as  your  es- 
cape,” exclaimed  he;  “ I would  have  given 
an  eye,  or  an  arm,  things  rather  an  impedi- 
ment to  a beggar,  I allow  ; but  it  would  have 
been  worth  a kingdom  to  see,  as  I saw,  the 
faces  of  the  whole  camp,  procurator,  officers, 
troopers,  and  all,  down  to  the  horse-boys,  on 
your  slipping  through  their  fingers  in  such 
first-rate  style.  I have  done  clever  things  in 
my  time.  But  never,  no  never,  shall  1 equal 
that  way  of  making  five  thousand  men  at 
once  look  like  five  thousand  fools.  I own  I 
thought  that  you  would  do  something  bril- 
liant; and  it  was  for  that  purpose  that  1 tried 
to  draw  off  the  eye  of  that  scoundrel,  Florus, 
for,  sot  as  he  is,  there  are  not  ten  in  Pales- 
tine keener  in  all  points  where  roguery  is 
concerned.  I caught  hold  of  his  robe,  told 
him  a ready  lie  of  the  largest  size  about  a dis- 
covery of  money  in  Jerusalem  ; and  while  he 
was  nibbling  at  the  bait,  I heard  the  uproar. 
You  were  off;  I could  not  help  laughing  in 
his  illustrious  face.  He  kicked  me  from 
him,  and,  foaming  with  rage,  ordered  every 
man  and  horse  out  after  your  highness.  But 
I saw  at  a glance,  that  you  had  the  game  in 
your  own  hands.  You  skimmed  away  like  a 
bird  ; an  eagle  could  not  have  got  up  that 
long  hill  in  finer  condition.  Away  you 
went,  bounding  from  steep  to  steep  like  a 
stone  from  a sling;  you  cut  the  air  like  a shaft. 
I have  seen  many  a mare  in  my  time;  but  as 
for  the  equal  of  yours — why,  a pair  of  wings 


Salathiel. 


87 


would  be  of  no  use  to  her.  She  is  a para- 
gon, a bird  of  paradise,  an  ostrich  on  four  legs, 
a ” 

I checked  his  volubility,  and  led  him  to  the 
rough  bedside  of  Constantius.  I could  not 
have  found  a better  auxiliary.  He  knew 
every  application  used  by  the  medicine  of  the 
time;  and,  to  give  him  credit  on  his  own 
showing,  all  diseases  found  in  him  an  enemy 
worth  all  the  doctors  of  Asia. 

“ He  had  travelled  for  his  knowledge;  he 
had  fought  with  death  from  the  Nile  to  the 
Ganges,  and  could  swear  that  the  sharks  and 
crocodiles  owed  him  a grudge  throughout  the 
world.  He  had  cured  rajahs  and  satraps,  till 
he  made  himself  unpopular  in  every  court 
where  men  looked  to  vacancies;  had  kept 
rich  old  men  out  of  their  graves,  until  there 
was  a general  conspiracy  of  heirs  to  drive 
him  out  of  the  country ; and  had  poured  life 
into  so  many  dying  husbands,  that  the  women 
made  a universal  combination  against  his 
own.” 

The  flow  of  panegyric,  however,  did  not 
impede  his  present  service.  He  applied  his 
herbs  and  bandages  with  professional  dex- 
terity, and  kindling  a fire,  prepared  some  food 
which  went  farther  to  cheer  the  patient  than 
even  his  medicine.  He  still  talked  away, 
like  one  to  whom  words  are  a necessary  es- 
cape for  his  surcharge  of  animal  spirits. 

“ He  knew  every  thing  in  physic.  He  had 
studied  in  Egypt,  and  could  compound  the 
true  essential  extract  of  mummy  with  any 
man  that  wore  a beard,  from  the  Cataracts  to 
the  bottom  of  the  Delta.  He  once  walked  to 
the  mountains  of  the  moon,  to  learn  the  se- 
cret of  powdered  chrysolite.  On  the  Himma- 
leh  he  picked  up  his  knowledge  of  the  be- 
zoar ; and  a year’s  march  through  sands  and 
snows  rewarded  him  at  once  with  a bag  of 
ginseng,  most  marvellous  of  roots,  and  the 
sight  of  the  wall  of  China,  most  endless  of 
walls.” 

How  he  stooped  to  veil  this  accumulation 
of  knowledge  in  rags,  he  did  not  condescend 
to  explain.  But  his  skill,  so  far,  was  cer- 
tainly admirable,  and  my  brave  Constantius 
recovered  with  a suddenness  that  surprised 
me.  With  his  strength,  his  hopes  returned. 

“ Oh,”  exclaimed  he,  awaking  from  a re- 
freshing sleep,  “ that  I were  once  again  at 
the  foot  of  the  rampart,  with  the  ladder  in  my 
hand  !” 

“ By  my  father’s  beard,”  replied  the  leech, 
“ you  are  much  better  where  you  are : for, 
observe,  though  I can  go  farther  than  any 
doctor  between  the  four  rivers,  yet  I never 
professed  to  cure  the  dead.  Take  Masada  by 
scale ! Ha,  ha ! take  the  clouds  by  scale ! 
You  would  have  found  three  walls  within 
the  one  to  which  they  decoyed  you.  Herod 
was  the  prince  of  builders,  and  could  have. 


built  out  every  thing,  but  the  champion  that 
carries  no  arms  but  a scythe,  and  cares  as 
little  for  king  Herod,  as  for  Sabat  the  beg- 
gar.” 

“ Then  you  know  Masada  1”  interrupted  I 
eagerly. 

“Know  it,  yes;  every  loophole,  window, 
door,  aye — and  stocks,  from  one  end  of  it  to 
the  other.” 

But  my  escape  from  the  camp  was  so  con- 
genial to  his  ideas  of  pleasantry,  that  it  ming- 
led with  all  his  topics.  War  and  politics 
went  for  nothing,  compared  with  the  adroit- . 
ness  of  eluding  Roman  activity.  “ By  Jove  1” 
said  he,  “ when  I played  my  tricks  with  that 
pearl  of  pearls,  that  supreme  of  horseflesh, 
your  barb,  [ was  clumsy  ; I played  the  clown  ; 
you  beat  me  hollow;  it  was  matchless;  it 
was  my  purse  in  prospect  of  your  generosity 
to  its  emptiness  this  night;”  he  made  a pro- 
found obeisance. — “ To  see  those  panting  fel- 
lows climbing  up  the  hill  after  you,  nearly 
killed  me.” 

“ But  the  fortress.” 

“ Why,  as  to  the  fortress,  the  notion  of  at- 
tacking it  was  madness.  I had  my  doubts  of 
your  intention:  and  broke  loose  from  the 
camp  to  give  you  the  benefit  of  my  advice. 
But  the  tribune  ! Ha,  ha ! never  was  cox- 
comb so  rightly  served.  You  won  the  heart 
of  the  whole  legion  by  the  single  blow  that 
saved  him  the  trouble  of  sitting  on  his  horse. 
The  troopers  could  not  keep  their  saddles  for 
laughing ; and  as  for  the  fat  old  captain,  I 
was  only  afraid  that  he  would  roar  himself 
out  of  the  world.  I confess,  I owed  my  escape 
partly  to  him,  and  his  last  words  were,  ‘ Ras- 
cal, if  you  ever  fall  in  with  the  Arab,  whom 
I suspect  to  be  as  pleasant  a rogue  as  your- 
self, tell  him  I wish  I had  a dozen  such  in  my 
squadron.’  ” 

“ But  is  there  any  possibility  of  knowing 
the  present  state  of  the  garrison  1” 

“ Aye,  there  is  the  misfortune.  Yesterday 
I could  have  got  in,  and  got  out  again,  like  a 
wild  cat.  But  after  this  night’s  visit,  it  is 
not  too  much  to  suppose,  that  they  may  be  a 
little  more  select  in  their  hospitality.  The 
governor  had  a slight  correspondence  of  his 
own  to  carry  on ; a trifle  in  the  way  of  trade ; 
I had  the  honor  to  be  smuggler  extraordinary 
to  his  Mightiness ; and,  as  in  state  secrets 
every  thing  ought  to  be  kept  from  the  vul- 
gar, my  path  in  and  out  was  by  a portcullis, 
far  enough  from  gates  and  sentinels;  through 
which  portcullis  I should  have  shown  you  the 
way,  if  the  attack  had  waited  for  me  a few 
hours  longer.  That  chance  is  of  course  cut  off 
now.  But  see,  yonder  comes  the  morning.” 

“ Then  we  must  move,  or  have  the  garri- 
son on  us.” 

“ I forbid  that  manoeuvre,”  interrupted  the 
I fellow  with  easy  audacity. 


88 


Salathiel. 


Constantius  and  I,  in  equal  surprise,  bade 
him  be  silent.  Yet  the  quietness  with  which 
he  took  the  rebuke  propitiated  me,  and  I ask- 
ed his  reason. 

“ Nothing  more  than  that,  if  you  stir,  you 
are  ruined.  The  hare  is  safest  near  the  ken- 
nel. The  outlaw  sleeps  sounder  in  the  mag- 
istrate’s house,  than  he  ever  slept  in  his  den. 
I once  escaped  hanging,  by  coolly  walking 
into  a jail.  There  stands  Masada!”  and  he 
pointed  to  what  looked  to  me  a heap  of  black 
clouds  gathered  on  the  mountain’s  brow 
above. 

“ Not  a soul  that  you  have  left  alive  there, 
will  dream  of  your  being  within  a stone’s 
throw.  The  copse  is  thick  enough  to  hide  a 
man  from  every  thing  but  a creditor,  an 
evil  conscience,  or  a wife;  stir  out  of  it,  and 
they  are  on  your  heels.  And  I dislike  them 
so  heartily,  that  I hope  never  to  have  the 
honor  of  their  attendance.  But  you  are  not 
mad  enough  to  think  of  trying  them  again!” 

“ Mad,  fellow  !”  I exclaimed  ; “ you  forget 
in  whose  presence  you  are.”  He  continued 
making  some  new  arrangement  of  the  band- 
ages on  his  patient’s  wounds;  and,  without 
taking  the  slightest  notice  of  my  displeasure, 
cheered  his  work  with  a song. 

“ Mad  or  wise,”  said  I,  in  soliloquy,  “ I 
shall  lie  in  the  ditch  of  that  fortress,  or  in  its 
citadel,  before  next  sunrise.” 

“ You  may  lie  in  both,  said  the  beggar, 
pursuing  his  occupation  and  his  song. 
“Mad!”  why  not;  all  the  world  are  in  the 
same  way.  The  Emperor  is  mad  enough  to 
stay  where  men  have  hands  and  knives.  His 
people  are  mad  enough  to  let  their  throats  be 
cut  by  him.  Florus  is  mad  enough  to  sleep 
another  night  in  Palestine.  You  are  mad 
enough  to  attack  his  garrison ; and  I — am 
mad  enough  to  go  along  with  you.” 

“You  are  a singular  being.  But  will  you 
hazard  your  neck  for  nothing!” 

“ Custom  makes  everything  easy,”  observ- 
ed he,  spanning  his  muscular  neck  with  his 
hand.  “1  have  been  so  many  years  within 
sight  of  the  cord,  and  all  such  expeditious 
modes  of  paying  the  only  debt  I ever  intend- 
ed to  pay,  and  that  only  because  it  is  the  last, 
that  I care  as  little  about  the  venture,  as  any 
broken  gambler  about  his  last  coin.  The 
tables  are  ready,  dice  in  hand,  the  stakes 
down  ; and  before  the  next  sun  peeps  in  upon 
our  play,  we  three  shall  have  our  fortunes 
made,  or  shall  lie  without  caring  a straw  for 
the  spite  of  fortune.  My  plan  is  this;  I must 
get  into  the  town,  you  must  gather  your  troop 
whhont,  noise,  and  be  ready  for  my  signal,  a 
light  from  one  of  the  towers.  A false  attack 
must  be  made  on  the  gates,  a true  attack 
must  be  made  by  the  portcullis,  which,  if  it 
be  not  stopped  up,  I will  unlock  ; and  never 
trust  me,  if  your  highness  does  not  eat  your 


* 


next  supper  off  the  governor’s  plate.  There’s 
a plan  for  you.  I should  have  been  a gene- 
ral. But  merit, — aye,  there’s  the  rub, — 
merit  is  like  the  camel’s  lading,  it  stops  him 
at  the  gate,  while  the  empty  slip  in.  It  is 
putting  wings  upon  one’s  shoulders,  when 
the  race  is  to  be  run  upon  the  ground.  Too 
much  brain  in  a man  is  like  too  much  bend 
in  a bow ; the  bow  either  breaks,  or  sends 
the  arrow  a mile  beyond  the  mark.  Genius, 
my  prince,  is — ” 

I interrupted  the  general  in  his  progress 
into  the  philosopher,  and  demanded  whether 
the  renewed  vigilance  of  the  fortress  would 
not  require  some  additional  expedient  for  his 
entry.  He  struck  his  forehead  ; the  thought 
came,  as  the  flint  gives  its  spark,  and  he  pro- 
duced a highly  ornamented  tablet.  “This,” 
said  he,  “ I ought  to  employ  in  your  service  ; 
for  if  you  had  not  knocked  down  the  tribune, 
I could  never  have  picked  it  up.  In  making 
my  run  over  the  mountain,  I struck  upon  his 
correspondence.  Oh!  the  curse  of  curiosity ! 
if  I had  not  stopped  to  delight  myself  with 
the  whole  scandal  of  Rome,  I should  have 
been  here  in  time.  But  I lingered,  lost  an 
hour  in  laughing,  and  when  I set  out  in  the 
dusk,  lost  my  way,  for  the  first  time  in  my 
life.  Before  setting  off,  however,  I wrote  a 
letter  ridiculing  Florus  in  all  points,  bur- 
lesquing the  people  about  him,  scoffing  at 
every  body  in  the  most  heroic  style ; and 
having  subscribed  the  name  of  the  unlucky 
tribune,  addressed  it  to  one  of  the  most  noto- 
rious personages  in  all  Italy ; and  placed  it 
where  it  is  sure  to  be  seen,  and  as  sure  to  be 
carried  to  the  most  noble  of  procurators. 
Now,  could  I not  begin  a correspon- 
dence with  the  governor,  and  act  the  cou- 
rier myself!  Yet,  to  hit  upon  the  sub- 
ject— ” He  paused. 

The  letter  that  I had  found,  occurred  to 
me.  I showed  it  to  our  adroit  friend.  He 
was  in  ecstacies.  He  kissed  it  over  and  over, 
and  played  some  of  those  antics  which  had 
already  made  me  half  doubt  his  sanity.  He 
flung  down  the  tablet.  “Go,”  said  he,  “ fic- 
tion is  a fine  thing  in  its  way.  But  give  me 
fact,  when  I want  to  entrap  a great  man. 
He  is  so  little  used  to  truth,  that  the  least 
atom  of  it  is  a spell : the  fresh  bait  will  carry 
the  largest  hook.  Aye,  this  is  the  letter  for 
us  ; it  has  the  sincerity  of  the  sex,  when  they 
are  determined  to  jilt  a man;  its  abuse  will 
cover  me  from  top  to  toe  with  the  cloak  of  a 
true  ambassador.” 

“ But  the  unpopularity  of  your  credentials,” 
said  T,  laughingly. 

“ Let  the  potentate  by  whom  thpy  are  sent, 
settle  that  affair  with  the  potentate  by  whom 
they  are  received,”  replied  he. 

“You  will  be  hanged.” 

“ I shall  first  get  in.” 


Salat  hiel. 


89 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

. The  day  passed  anxiously,  for  every  sound 
of  the  huge  fortress  was  heard  in  the  thicket. 
The  creaking  of  the  machines,  brought  up 
to  the  wall  against  future  assault;  the  rat- 
tling of  hammers ; the  rolling  of  wagons 
loaded  with  the  materials  for  the  repair  of 
the  night’s  damage;  the  calls  of  trumpet  and 
clarion,  and  the  march  of  patroles,  rang  per- 
petually in  our  ears.  The  depth  of  the  copse, 
and  its  nearness  to  the  ramparts,  justified 
the  beggar’s  generalship,  and  the  son  of  El 
Hakim  proved  himself  a master  of  the  art  of 
castrametation.  Nothing  could  exceed  his 
alertness  in  threading  the  mazes  of  this 
dwarf  forest,  where  a wolf  could  scarcely  have 
made  progress;  and  where  a lynx  would 
have  required  all  his  eyes. 

On  my  asking  how  he  contrived  to  find  his 
way  through  this  labyrinth,  he  told  me,  that 
“for making  one’s  way  in  woods  and  else- 
where, there  was  nothing  like  a familiarity 
with  smuggling,  and  the  state.” 

“ The  man,”  continued  he,  “ who  has  driven 
a trade  in  every  thing,  from  pearls  to  pista- 
chios, without  leave  of  the  customs,  cannot 
be  much  puzzled  by  thickets;  and  the  man 
who  has  contrived  to  climb  into  confidence  at 
< court,  must  have  had  a talent  for  keeping  his 
feet  in  the  most  slippery  spots,  or  he  never 
! could  have  mounted  the  back  stairs!” 
i,  He  collected  the  troop,  of  whom  I was  re- 
joiced to  believe  that  but  few  had  fallen, 

1 though  nearly  one  half  were  made  prisoners ; 
they  were  eager  to  attempt  the  rampart 
again,  all.  boldly  attributing  their  failure  to 
accident,  and  all  thirsting  alike  for  the  res- 
cue of  their  comrades,  and  for  revenge.  The 
letter  was  given  to  our  emissary,  and  I as- 
cended the  loftiest  of  the  mountain  pinnacles, 
to  examine  for  myself  the  nature  of  the 
ground. 

From  my  height  the  view  was  complete; 
the  whole  interior  of  the  fortress  lay  open: 
and  in  the  same  glance,  1 saw  the  grace  and 
regal  grandeur  of  design,  which  Greek  taste 
could  stamp  even  upon  the  strength  of  mili- 
tary architecture,  and  the  utter  hopelessness 
of  any  direct  assault  upon  Masada,  by  less 
i than  an  army. 

Who  but  he  that  has  actually  been  in  the 
same  situation,  can  conceive  the  feelings 
with  which  I gazed  ! Below  me,  was  the 
spot  in  which  a tew  hours  must  see  me  con- 
queror or  nothing ! On  that  battlement,  I 
might,  before  another  morn,  be  stretched  in 
blood  ! on  that  tower  I might  be  fixed  a hor- 
rid spectacle!  Nature  is  irresistible, and  her 
workings  overpowered  the  old  belief,  that  a 
mysterious  sentence  was  to  give  me  a mise- 
rable perpetuity  of  life.  The  thought  has  al- 


i ways  terribly  returned  ; but  the  moment  of 
energy  has  always  extinguished  it;  the  bur- 
i rying  and  swelling  current  of  my  heart  rolled 
over  it,  as  the  summer  torrent  rushes  over 
the  tomb  on  its  brink.  The  melancholy  me- 
! morial  was  there,  sure  to  re-appear  with  the 
first  subsiding ; but  lost  while  the  flood  of 
feeling  whirled  along. 

Every  group  of  soldiery  that  slept,  or  sang, 
or  gamed,  or  gazed,  along  the  ramparts  un- 
der the  bright  and  quiet  day  which  followed 
so  fearful  a night;  every  archer  pacing  on 
his  tower;  every  solitary  wanderer  in  the 
streets ; every  change  of  the  guard  ; every 
entering  courier ; was  visible  to  me,  and  all 
were  objects  of  keen  interest.  At  length, 

, my  courier  came.  I saw  his  approach  from 
1 a pass  of  the  mountains  at  the  remotest  point 
from  our  cover,  his  well-contrived  exhaus- 
tion, the  ostentatious  dust  upon  his  tattered 
habiliments,  and  the  fearless  impudence  with 
which  he  beguiled  the  sulky  guard  at  the 
gate,  and  stalked  before  the  centurion  by 
whom  he  was  brought  to  the  Governor. 

With  what  eyes  of  impatience  I now 
watched  the  sun  ! I wished  for  the  power  of 
extinguishing  day  from  the  heavens.  As  the 
hour  of  fate  approached,  the  fever  of  the  mind 
I grew.  To  defer  the  attack  beyond  the  night, 
was  to  abandon  it ; for  by  morn  the  troops 
'under  Florus  must  reach  Masada.  Yet  a 
strange  sensation,  a chilliness  of  heart,  some- 
times came  on  me,  in  which  my  hands  were 
as  feeble  as  an  infant’s.  I felt  like  one  be- 
fore a tribunal,  awaiting  the  word  that  must 
decide  his  destiny.  Nothing  tries  the  soul 
more  deeply  than  this  concentration  of  its 
fortunes  into  a few  moments.  The  man  sees 
j himself  standing  on  the  edge  of  a precipice 
down  which  there  is  no  second  step.  But 
the  thought  of  returning  errandless  and  hu- 
miliated, and  this  too,  from  my  first  enter- 
prise, was  intense  bitterness.  I made  my 
' decision.  From  that  instant  I breathed  free- 
ly, my  strength  returned,  hope  glowed  in  my 
j bosom ; and,  clinging  to  the  granite  spire  of 
the  mountain,  I looked  down  upon  the  haughty 
strong-hold,  like  its  evil  genius  descending 
from  the  clouds. 

The  sun  touched  the  western  ridge.  A 
horseman  came  at  full  stretch  across  the 
plain  at  its  foot,  and  entered  the  fortress.  He 
evidently  brought  news  of  importance,  for  the 
I troops  were  hurried  under  arms,  flags  hoist- 
1 ed  on  the  ramparts,  and  the  walls  lined  with 
archers.  All  was  military  bustle. 

I My  first  conception  was,  that  mv  emissary 
had  betrayed  us,  and  that  we  were  about  to  be 
attacked.'  I plunged  from  the  pinnacle,  and 
was  following  the  windings  of  the  goat-track 
| to  our  lair,  when  I saw  the  rising  of  a cloud 
I of  dust  in  the  distance.  It  moved  with  great 
1 rapidity,  and  soon  developed  its  contents.  In- 


90 


Salat  hiel. 


telligence  of  the  assault  had  reached  Florus. 
His  sagacity  saw  what  perils  turned  on  the 
loss  of  the  fortress;  he  shook  off  his  indo- 
lence, and  came,  without  delay,  to  its  succor. 
Banners,  helmets,  and  scarlet  cloaks,  poured 
across  the  plain.  A torrent  of  brass,  burn- 
ing and  flashing  in  the  sunbeam,  continued  to 
roll  down  the  defile;  and  before  the  evening 
star  glittered,  the  whole  cavalry  of  the  fif- 
teenth legion  was  trampling  over  the  draw- 
bridge of  Masada. 

Here  was  the  death-blow.  My  enterprise 
was  henceforth  ten-fold  more  hopeless ; but 
with  me  the  time  for  prudence  was  past.  If 
the  reinforcement  had  arrived  but  an  hour 
before,  1 should  probably  have  given  up  the 
attempt  in  despair.  But  my  mind  was  fixed, 
I had  made  an  internal  vow ; a.Vl  if  the  whole 
host  of  Rome  were  crowded  within  the  walls 
beneath,  I should  have  hazarded  the  assault. 

I descended,  found  my  troop  collected,  and, 
to  my  alarm  and  vexation,  Constantins,  en- 
feebled as  he  was,  obstinately  determined  to 
assault  the  rampart  again.  With  the  noble 
daring  of  his  enthusiastic  heart  he  told  me 
that  unless  1 suffered  him  to  attempt  the 
retrieval  of  his  defeat,  he  felt  it  impossible  to 
survive. 

“ Shame  and  grief,”  said  he,  “ are  as  dead- 
ly as  the  sword  ; and  never  will  I return  to 
the  face  of  her  whom  I love,  nor  of  the  fam- 
ily whom  1 honor,  unless  I can  return  with 
the  consciousness  of  having  at  least  deserved 
to  be  successful.” 

Against  this  I reasoned,  but  reasoned  in 
vain.  We  finally  divided  our  followers.  I 
gave  him  the  attack  of  the  rampart,  which 
was  to  be  the  place  of  his  triumph  or  his 
grave  ; flung  myself  into  his  embrace,  and 
listened  to  his  parting  steps,  with  a heart 
throbbing  at  every  tread.  I then  moved 
round  the  foot  of  the  mountain  towards  the 
secret  passage. 

The  night  fell  dark  as  we  could  wish.  I 
waited . impatiently  for  the  signal,  a light 
from  the  walls.  Yet,  no  signal  twinkled  from 
wall  or  tower,  and  I began  to  distrust  again  ; 
but  while  I lingered,  a shout  told  me  that 
Constantius  was  already  engaged.  “ Let 
what  will  come,”  exclaimed  I,  “ Onward.” 

We  scrambled  up  the  face  of  the  rock,  and 
at  length  found  the  entrance  of  the  subter- 
ranean. It  was  so  narrow,  that  even  in  the 
day-time  it  must  have  been  nearly  invisible 
from  below.  A low  iron  door  a few  yards 
within  the  fissure  was  the  first  obstacle.  To 
beat  it  down  might  alarm  the  garrison.  The 
passage  allowed  but  of  our  advance  one  by 
one.  I led  the  way,  hatchet  in  hand.  A few 
blows  given  with  as  little  noise  as  possible, 
broke  the  stones  round  the  lock.  The  door 
gave  way,  and  we  all  crept  in.  In  this  man- 
ner we  wound  along  for  a distance,  which  I 


began  to  think  endless.  The  passage  was  sin- 
gularly toilsome.  We  ascended  considerable 
heights,  we  descended  steep  paths,  in  which 
it  was  with  the  utmost  difficulty  that  we  could 
keep  our  feet;  we  heard  the  rush  of  waters 
through  the  darkness;  blasts  of  bitter  wind 
swept  against  us;  the  thick  and  heavy  air 
that  closed  around  us  after  them,  almost  im- 
peded our  breathing,  and  from  time  time  the 
vapor  of  sulphur  gave  the  fearful  impression 
that  we  had  lost  our  way,  and  were  actually 
engulfed  in  the  bowels  of  a burning  mine. 

The  hearts  of  my  hunters  were  bold,  and 
they  still  held  on  ; but  the  mere  fatigue  of 
struggling  through  this  poisoned  atmosphere, 
was  fast  exhausting  their  courage.  I cheer- 
ed them  with  what  topics  I could,  but  never 
was  tny  imagination  more  barren.  I heard, 
at  every  step  I took,  fewer  feet  following 
me.  The  close  and  pestilential  air  was  be- 
ginning to  act  even  upon  myself:  but  the 
great  stake  was  playing  above,  and  onward  I 
must  go.  I dared  not  speak  louder  than  in 
a whisper;  soon  no  whisper  responded  to 
mine.  I tottered  on,  till,  overpowered  by  the 
feeling  that  our  sacrifice  was  in  vain,  a sen- 
sation like  that  of  a sickly  propensity  to  sleep 
bound  up  my  faculties ; and,  whether  I slept  or 
fainted,  I for  a time  lost  all  recollection. 

A roar,  like  thunder,  roused  me.  A sight 
the  most  superb  burst  on  my  awaking  eyes; 
a roof  of  gold,  arched  so  high,  that  even  its 
splendor  was  partially  dimmed ; walls  of 
diamond,  pillared  with  a thousand  columns 
of  every  precious  gem ; whole  shafts  of  em- 
erald ; pavilions  of  jasper  and  beryl ; couches 
wrought  with  pearl  and  silver;  a floor  as  tar 
as  the  glance  could  pierce,  studded  with 
amethyst  and  ruby  ; treasures,  to  which  the 
accumulated  spoils  of  the  Greek  or  the  Per- 
sian were  nothing;  the  finest  devices  of  the 
most  exquisite  art,  mingled  with  the  most 
collossal  forms  which  wealth  could  wear ; ; 
opulence  in  its  massive  and  negligent  gran- 
deur ; opulence  in  its  delicate,  and  almost 
spiritualized  beauty,  were  before  me.  A 
slender  flame  burning  at  the  foot  of  an  idol, 
lighted  up  this  stupendous  temple. 

I was  alone;  but  the  orifice  by  which  I 
had  entered  was  visible ; the  light  shot  far 
down  into  it,  and  I soon  collected  the  great- 
er number  of  my  troop.  All  were  equally 
wrapt  in  wonder,  and  the  superstitious  feel- 
ings which  the  presence  of  the  Roman  and 
Syrian  idolaters  had  partially  generated  even 
in  the  Jewish  mind,  began  to  startle  those 
brave  men. 

“ We  had,  perhaps,  come  into  forbidden 
ground ; the  gods  of  the  earth,  whether  gods 
or  demons,  were  powerful ; and  we  stood  in 
the  violated  centre  of  the  mountain.” 

For  the  first  time,  I found  the  failure  of 
my  influence.  A few  adhered  to  me,  but  the 


Salathiel. 


91 


majority  calmly  declared  that,  however  fear- 
less of  man,  they  dared  go  no  farther.  I 
threw  myself  on  the  ground  before  the  en- 
trance of  the  cavern,  and  desired  them  to 
consummate  their  crime  by  trampling  on 
their  prince  and  leader.  But  they  were  de- 
termined to  retire.  I taunted  them,  I ad- 
jured them,  I poured  out  the  most  vehe- 
ment reproaches.  They  stepped  over  me, 
as  I lay  at  the  mouth  of  the  fissure;  and 
at  length  one  and  all  left  me  to  cry  out  in 
my  dazzling  solitude,  against  the  treachery 
of  human  faith  and  the  emptiness  of  human 
wishes.  _ J 

The  roar  again  rolled  above  ; I heard  dis- 
tant shouts  and  trumpets.  In  the  sudden  and 
desperate  consciousness  that  all  was  now  to 
be  gained  or  lost,  I rushed  after  the  fugitives, 
to  force  them  back.  I plunged  into  the  dark- 
ness, and  grasped  the  first  figure  that  I could 
overtake.  My  hand  fell  on  the  iron  cuirass 
of  a Roman  ! my  blood  ran  chill.  “ We  were 
betrayed  ; decoyed  into  the  bowels  of  the 
mountain  to  be  massacred.” 

The  figure  started  from  me.  I gave  a 
blind  blow  of  the  axe,  and  heard  it  crush 
through  his  helmet.  The  man  fell  at  my 
feet.  I wildly  demanded,  “ How  he  came 
there,  and  how  we  might  make  our  way  intol 
the  light?” 

“ You  are  undone,”  said  he,  faintly.  “ Your 
spy  was  seized  by  the  procurator.  Your  at- 
tack was  known,  and  the  door  of  the  subter- 
ranean left  unguarded,  to  entrap  you.  This 
passage  was  the  entrance  to  a former  mine ; 
and  in  the  mine  is  your  grave.”  The  voice 
sank,  he  groaned,  and  was  no  more. 

His  words  were  soon  confirmed  by  the' 
hurried  return  of  my  men.  They  had  found 
the  passage  obstructed  by  a portcullis,  dropt 
since  their  entrance.  Torches  were  seen' 
through  the  fissures  above,  and  the  sound  of 
arms  rattled  round  ns.  The  ambush  was 
complete.  “ Now,”  said  I,  “ we  have  but  one 
thing  for  it ; — the  sword,  first  for  our  enemy,  j 
last  for  ourselves.  If  we  must  die,  let  us  not 
die  by  Roman  halters.” 

One  and  all,  we  rushed  back  into  the 
mine.  But  we  had  now  no  leisure  to  look 
upon  the  beauty  of  those  spars  and  crystals, 
which,  under  the  light  of  the  altar,  glittered 
and  blushed  with  such  gem-like  radiance. 
From  that  altar  rose  a fierce  and  broad  pyr- 
amid of  fire;  piles  of  fagots,  continually 
poured  from  a grating  above,  fed  the  blaze  to 
intolerable  fierceness.  Smoke  filled  the 
mine.  To  escape  was  beyond  hope.  The 
single  orifice  had  been  already  tried.  Around 
us  was  a solid  wall  as  old  as  the  world.  It 
was  already  heating  with  the  blaze;  our 
feet  shrank  from  the  floor.  The  flame  shoot- 
ing in  a thousand  spires,  coiled  and  sprang 
against  the  roof,  the  walls,  and  the  ground. 


To  remain  where  we  were  was  to  be  a cinder. 
The  catastrophe  was  inevitable  ! 

In  the  madness  of  pain  I made  a furious 
bound  into  the  column  of  fire.  All  followed, 
for  death  was  certain,  and  the  sooner  it  came 
the  better.  With  unspeakable  feelings  I saw, 
at  the  back  of  the  mound  of  stone  on  which 
the  fagots  burned,  an  opening,  hitherto  con- 
cealed by  the  huge  figure  of  the  idol.  We 
crowded  into  it ; here  we  were  at  least  out  of 
reach  of  the  flame.  But  what  was  our  chance 
but  that  of  a more  lingering  death?  We 
hurried  in  ; a portcullis  stood  across  the  pas- 
sage ! What  was  to  be  our  fate,  but  famine  ? 
We  must  perish  in  a lingering  misery — of 
all  miseries  the  most  appalling;  and  with  the 
bitter  aggravation  of  perishing  unknown, 
worthless,  useless,  stigmatized  for  slaves  or 
dastards!  What  man  of  Israel  would  ever 
hear  of  our  death  ? What  chronicler  of  Rome 
would  deign  to  vindicate  our  absence  from 
the  combat  ? 

We  were  within  hearing  of  that  combat. 
The  assault  thundered  more  wildly  than  ever 
over  our  heads ; the  alternate  shout  of  Jew 
and  Roman  descended  to  us.  But  where 
were  we  ? caged,  dungeoned,  doomed  ! If 
the  earth  had  laid  her  treasures  at  my  feet 
that  night,  I would  have  given  them  for  one 
hour  of  freedom — one  saving,  hallowed  effort. 
Oh  ! for  one  struggle  beside  my  warriors,  to 
redeem  my  name,  and  avenge  my  country. 
The  contrast  subdued  me  utterly.  I sank  into 
a corner  and  wept  like  a child. 

The  roar  of  battle  grew  feeble.  “ Was  all 
lost  ? Constantins  slain  ? for  with  life  he 
would  not  yield.  Was  the  whole  hope  of 
Judea  crushed  at  a blow  1”  I cried  aloud  to 
my  followers  to  force  the  portcullis.  They 
dragged  and  tore  at  the  bars.  But  it  was  of 
a solid  strength  that  not  ten  times  ours  could 
master. 

In  the  mist  of  our  hopeless  labors,  the 
sound  of  heavy  blows  above  caught  my  ear, 
and  fragments  of  rock  fell  in  ; the  blows  were 
continued.  Was  this  but  a new  expedient  to 
crush  or  suffocate  us  ? 

A crevice  showed  the  light  of  a torch  over- 
head. I grasped  the  axe  to  strike  a last 
blow  at  the  gate,  and  die.  I heard  a voice 
pronounce  my  name ! Another  blow  opened 
the  roof.  A face  bent  down,  and  a loud 
laugh  proclaimed  my  crazy  friend.  “ Ha  !” 
said  he,  “are  you  there  at  last?  You  have 
had  a hard  night’s  work  of  it.  But,  come 
up;  I have  an  incomparable  joke  to  tell  you 
about  the  tribune  and  the  procurator.  Come 
up,  my  prince,  and  see  the  world.” 

I had  no  time  to  rebuke  his  jocularity.  I 
climbed  up  the  side  of  the  passage,  and  found 
myself  still  in  a dungeon.  To  my  look  of 
disappointment  he  gave  no  other  answer  than 
a laugh ; and  unscrewing  a bar  from  the  loop- 


92 


Salalhiel. 


hole  above  his  head,  “It  is  ray  custom,”! 
said  he,  “ to  make  myself  at  my  ease 
wherever  I go;  and  as  prisons  fall  to  a 
man’s  lot,  like  other  things,  I like  to  be! 
able  to  leave  my  mansion  whenever  I am 
tired  of  it.” 

“ Forward,  then,”  said  I,  impatiently. 

“ Backward,”  said  the  beggar,  with  the 
most  unruffled  coolness.  “ That  loop-hole  is 
for  me  alone.  I may  be  under  the  governor’s 
care  again,  and  I have  showed  it  to  you  now 
merely  as  a curiosity.  Drink,  my  brave  fel- 
lows,” said  he,  turning  to  the  troop  below, 
and  giving  them  a skin  of  wine.  “Soldiers 
must  have  their  comforts,  my  gallant  prince, 
as  well  as  beggars.  If  that  villain  Procura- 
tor had  not  come  by  express  (for  no  man  alive 
is  quicker  to  catch  an  idea,  where  he  is  like- 
ly to  lose  or  gain,)  you  should  have  been  by 
this  time  sleeping  in  the  governor’s  bed,  and 
the  governor,  probably,  supping  with  me. 
But  all  is  fortune,  good  and  bad,  in  this  world. 
The  Procurator,  putting . your  escape  and 
mine  together,  began  to  think  that  his  pre- 
sence might  be  useful  here;  and  the  laziest 
rogue  in  Palestine  came  with  a speed  that 
might  have  done  honor  to  the  quickest,  who 
stands  before  you  in  my  person.  I had  gone 
on  swimmingly  with  the  governor  on  the 
strength  of  your  love-letter,  angry  as  it  made 
him.  But  the  first  sight  of  Florus  put  an  end 
to  my  chance  of  opening  the  gates  for  your 
triumphal  entry.  I was  tied,  neck  and  heels, 
and  flung  here,  to  be  gibbeted  to-morrow  morn- 
ing. But  that  morning  has  not  come  yet.” 

He  paced  the  cell  uneasily.  At  length  he 
sprang  up,  and  looking  from  the  loop-hole, 
whispered,  “ Now  !”  A low,  creaking  sound 
of  machinery  followed.  “Down  into  the 
cavern,”  said  he,  “ that  accursed  cohort  has 
moved  at  last.  Away,  my  prince,  and  seek 
your  fortune.” 

, I exhibited  some  reluctance  to  be  engulfed 
again.  But  his  countenance  assumed  a sud- 
den sternness.  His  only  word  was,  “ Down  !” 
As  we  were  parting,  he  solemnly  pronounced 
— “ May  whatever  power  befriends  the  right- 
eous cause,  and  blasts  the  man  of  infamy  and 
blood,  send  the  lightnings  before  you  !”  A 
tear  stood  in  his  uplifted  eye.  His  worn 
countenance  flushed  as  he  spoke  the  words. 
He  seized  a spear  from  a corner,  and  plunged 
after  me  into  the  cavern. 

The  portcullis  no  longer  obstructed  us; 
the  passage  opened  at  the  foot  of  the  ram- 
part. M v heart  bounded ; I could  have  rushed 
upon  an  army.  The  same  eagerness  was  in 
us  all.  But  the  hand  of  my  guide  was  on 
my  shoulder.  “ Your  attack,”  said  he,  “ can  be 
nothing,  unless  it  be  a surprise.  Move  along 
unseen,  if  possible,  till  you  come  to  the  flank 
of  the  first  tower.  There  wait  for  my  signal !” 
I demanded  its  nature.  But  he  was  gone. 

The  sound  of  the  assault  swelled  again, 


! though  it  was  palpably  receding.  I climbed 
the  rampart  alone.  The  torches  on  a distant 
battlement  showed  me  the  Romans  in  force, 
j and  evidently  making  way.  I could  restrain 
myself  no  longer.  My  troop,  too,  murmured 
at  their  inaction.  I gave  the  word — led  them 
on — concealed  by  the  shadow  of  the  colossal 
wall,  saw  the  Romans  crowding  on  the  bat- 
tlements above,  fell  upon  the  guard  at  the 
gate,  and  cast  it  open  ! 

Constantius  was  the  first  that  saw  me.  He 
sprang  forward,  with  a cry  of  exultation. 
The  Romans  on  the  battlement  felt  them- 
selves cut  off,  were  struck  with  panic,  and 
threw  down  their  arms ; but  we  had  more  im- 
portant objects,  and  rushed  back  to  the  cita- 
del. Our  work  was  not  yet  done  ; we  were 
entangled  in  the  streets,  and  lost  time.  The 
garrison  was  strong,  and  fought  like  men  who 
had  no  resource  but  in  the  sword.  We  were 
pressed  on  all  sides ; an  arrow  lodged  in  my 
shoulder,  and  I could  wield  the  axe  no  more. 
In  a few  discharges,  every  man  round  me 
was  bruised  or  bleeding.  I saw  a Roman 
column  hurrying  along  the  rampart,  whose 
charge  must  finish  the  battle  at  once.  Butin 
the  instant  of  despair,  a blaze  sprang  up  in 
the  rear  of  the  enemy.  Another  and  another 
followed.  The  governor’s  palace  was  on 
fire ! The  sight  broke  the  Roman  courage. 
Cries  of  treachery  rang  through  the  ranks; 
they  turned,  flung  away  spear  and  shield,  and 
I was  master  of  the  strongest  fortress  in  Pal- 
estine ! 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

Resistance  was  at  an  end,  and  we  had 
now  nothing  to  do  but  to  prevent  the  confla- 
gration from  snatching  the  prize  out  of  our 
hands.  The  flames  rose  menacingly  from 
the  roof  of  the  palace;  and  another  hour 
might  see  the  famous  arsenal  beyond  the 
power  of  man.  Leaving  to  Constantius  the 
care  of  securing  the  prisoners,  I entered  the 
palace,  followed  by  a detachment.  In  the 
bustle  I had  missed  my  deliverer;  but  scarce- 
ly could  think  about  him,  or  any  thing  else, 
while  the  enemy  were  showering  lances  and 
shafts  as  thick  as  snow  upon  us.  But  now, 
some  fears  of  his  extravagance  recurred  to 
rne,  and  I ordered  strict  search  to  be  made 
for  him. 

The  fire  had  seized  on  but  a wing  of  the 
palace,  and  was  speedily  extinguished.  I was 
ascending  the  stair,  when  a figure  bounded 
full  against  me  from  a side  door.  It  was  the 
beggar.  His  voice,  however,  was  my  only 
means  of  recognition,  for  his  outward  man 
had  undergone  a total  change.  He  wore  a 
rich  cuirass  and  helmet,  a Greek  falchion 
glittered  in  his  embroidered  belt,  a tissued 
mantle  hung  over  his  shoulder,  and  a spear, 


Salathiel. 


93 


ponderous,  but  inlaid  and  polished  with  the  I 
nicest  art,  was  brandished  in  his  hand.] 
“ What,”  said  he,  “is  all  over!  May  all  the 
fogs  of  earth  and  skies  cloud  me,  but  I was  j 
born  under  the  most  malignant  planet  that 
ever  did  mischief;  I left  you  only  to  do  some 
business  of  my  own;  I failed  there.  My 
next  business  was  to  join  and  help  you  to 
give  a lesson  to  those  Roman  hounds;  or, 
if  they  were  to  give  the  lesson  to  us,  take 
chance  along  with  you,  and  exhibit  as  a sol- 
dier. I made  bold  to  borrow  the  governor’s 
arms,  as  you  see;  but  I am  always  unlucky.” 
“ If  it  was  you  who  set  this  roof  on  fire, 
your  torch  was  worth  an  army.” 

“ Aye,  I never  saw  fire  fail ; no  man  is 
ashamed  of  running  away  from  a blaze;  and 
I thought  that  the  Romans  were  tired  enough 
to  be  glad  of  the  excuse.  But  I had  a point 
besides  to  carry.  Florus  is  somewhere  un- 
der these  ceilings.  I determined  to  burn  him 
out,  and  pay  home  my  long  arrear,  as  he 
attempted  to  make  his  escape.  But  you 
have  just  extinguished  the  cleverest  earth- 
ly contrivance  for  the  discovery  of  rascally 
governors ; and  I must  break  an  oath  I made 
long  ago  against  his  ever  dying  in  his  bed.” 
“Florus  here!  then  we  must  have  him 
without  delay.  But,  who  comes!” 

At  the  word  I seized  a slave  of  the  palace, 
in  the  attempt  to  escape.  He  begged  hard 
for  life,  and  promised  to  conduct  us  where 
the  Procurator  was  concealed.  We  hurried 
on  through  a succession  of  winding  passages  ; 
a strong  door  stopped  us:  “There,”  said  the 
slave. 

“ By  the  beard  of  my  fathers,  the  wolf 
shall  not  be  long  in  his  den,”  cried  the  son 
of  El  Hakim.  “Procurator,  your  last  crime- 
is  committed.” 

He  threw  himself  against  the  door  with 
prodigious  force;  the  bars  burst  away,  andi 
before  us  lay  the  terror  of  Judea ! 

He  was  to  be  a terror  no  more.  A cup, 
the  inseparable  amethystine  cup,  stood  on  the 
table  beside  his  couch.  He  lay  writhing 
with  pain.  His  countenance  wore  the  ghast- 
liest hue  of  death.  I bade  him  surrender. 
He  smiled,  took  the  cup  in  his  trembling 
hand,  and  eagerly  swallowed  the  remaining 
drops  in  its  bottom. 

“What!  poison!”  exclaimed  my  com- 
panion. “ Has  the  villain  escaped  me ! Here 
is  my  planet  again  ; never  was  man  so  un- 
lucky. But,  he  is  not  dead  yet.” 

He  drew  his  falchion,  and  lifted  it  up  with 
the  look  of  one  .about  to  offer  a solemn  sacri- 
fice. I seized  his  arm.  “ He  is  dying,”  said 
I ; “he  is  beyond  earthly  vengeance.”  The 
wretched  criminal  before  us  was  nearly  in- 
sensible to  his  brief  preservation.  The  poison, 
acting  upon  a frame  already  broken  with  pub- 
lic and  private  anxieties,  was  making  quick 
work;  and  the  glazed  eye,  the  fallen  coun- 

7 


tenance,  and  the  collapsed  limb,  showed  that 
his  last  hour  was  come. 

“ And  this  is  the  thing,”  soliloquized  the 
son  of  El  Hakim,  “ that  men  feared  ! In  this 
senseless  flesh  was  the  power  to  make  the 
free  tremble  for  their  freedom,  and  the  slave 
curse  the  hour  that  he  was  born.  This  mass 
of  mortality  could  stand  between  me  and 
happiness — could  make  me  a beggar,  a wan- 
derer, miserable,  mad  !”  He  caught  up  the 
hand  that  hung  nerveless  from  the  couch. 
“ Accursed  hand !”  exclaimed  he,  “ what  tor- 
rents of  blood  have  owed  their  flowing  to 
thee ! A word  written  by  these  fingers  cost 
a thousand  lives.  And,  oh  Heaven ! in  this 
cruel  grasp  was  the  key  to  thy  dungeon,  my 
Mary ; that  dungeon  of  more  than  the  body, 
the  hideous  prison-house  that  extinguished 
thy  mind  !”  He  let  fall  the  hand,  and  wept 
bitterly. 

To  my  utter  surprise,  the  Procurator  start- 
ed upon  his  feet,  and,  with  the  look  that  had 
so  often  made  the  heart  quake,  haughtily  de- 
manded who  we  were,  and  how  we  dared  to 
interrupt  his  privacy.  I felt  as  if  a spirit  had 
started  up  before  me  from  the  shroud.  But 
this  extraordinary  revival  was  merely  the 
last  effort  of  a fierce  mind.  He  tottered,  and 
was  falling,  when  my  companion  darted  for- 
ward, grasped  him  by  the  bosom  with  one 
hand,  and  waving  the  falchion  above  him 
with  the  other — “ He  hears ! he  sees !”  ex- 
claimed he,  exultingly.  “Who  are  we! 
Who  am  I ! Look  upon  me,  Gessius  Florus, 
before  the  sight  leaves  your  eyes  forever.  See 
Sabat  the  Ishmaelite — the  despised,  the  in- 
sulted, the  trampled,  the  undone.  But  never 
did  you  prosper  from  the  hour  of  my  ruin.  I 
was  your  spy,  but  it  was  only  to  bring  you 
into  a snare ; 1 fed  your  pride,  but  it  was  only 
that  it  might  turn  the  hearts  of  all  men  against 
you ; I stimulated  your  avarice,  only  that 
wealth  might  make  your  nights  sleepless,  and 
your  days,  days  of  fear;  I stirred  your  wrath 
into  rage ; I set  your  prudence  asleep ; I in- 
flamed your  ambition  into  frenzy ! This 
night  I led  your  conquerors  upon  you.  But  I 
had  made  all  sure.  The  vengeance  was  at 
hand.  In  another  week,  Gessius  Florus,  if 
you  had  escaped  this  sword,  you  would  have 
been  seized  by  order  of  the  Emperor ; stripped 
of  your  wealth,  your  honors,  your  accursed 
power,  and  your  wretched  life.  The  com- 
mand for  your  blood  is  this  night  crossing 
the  Mediterranean!” 

The  dying  man  struggled  to  get  free, 
wrenched  himself  by  a violent  effort  from  the 
strong  grasp  that  at  once  held  and  sustained 
him,  and  fell.  He  was  dead  ! 

The  son  of  El  Hakim  stood  gazing  on  the 
body  in  silence;  when  the  glitter  of  a ring 
on  the  hand,  as  it  lay  spread  on  the  floor, 
struck  his  eye:  He  seized  it  with  an  out- 

cry: the  man  was  wholly  changed;  hia 


94 


Salat  hiel. 


frowning  visage  flashed  with  joy.  I in  vain 
demanded  the  cause.  He  pressed  the  signet 
to  his  lips.  “ Farewell,  Farewell !”  he  ex- 
claimed. 

“Will  you  not  wait  for  your  share  of  the 
spoil,  your  ample  and  deserved  reward  7” 

“Farewell!1’  he  repeated,  and  burst  from 
the  chamber. 

This  memorable  night  made  changes  in 
more  than  the  Ishmaeiite.  Constantius  was, 
at  last,  in  his  element.  I had  hitherto  seen 
him  disguised  by  circumstances:  the  fugitive 
from  his  country,  the  lover  under  the  embar- 
rassments of  forbidden  passion,  the  ill-starred 
soldier.  His  native  vigor  of  soul  was  under 
a perpetual  cloud.  But  now  the  cloud  broke 
away  ; and  victory,  the  consciousness  of  hav- 
ing nobly  retrieved  his  check,  and  the  still 
prouder  consciousness  of  the  career  that  this 
triumph  laid  open  before  him,  brought  the 
character  of  his  mind  into  full  light,  fie  was 
now  the  lofty  enthusiast  that  nature  made 
him.  He  breathed  generous  ambition : his 
step  was  the  step  of  command ; and  when  he 
rushed  to  my  embrace  with  almost  the  eager- 
ness of  a boy,  and  a voice  stifled  with  emo- 
tion, I saw  in  him  the  romance,  the  soaring 
spirit,  and  the  passionate  love  of  glory,  that 
moulded  the  Greek  hero. 

He  had  done  his  duty  nobly.  All  were  in 
admiration  of  his  assault.  The  Romans  had 
been  fully  prepared.  He  scaled  the  rampart, 
and  scaled  it  almost  singly  in  their  teeth. 
His  men  followed  gallantly.  He  pressed  on  : 
the  second  rampart  was  stormed.  I found 
him  at  the  foot  of  the  third,  checked  by  its 
impregnable  mass  alone,  but  defying  the 
whole  garrison  to  drive  him  back.  When  I 
afterwards  saw  the  strength  of  those  bul- 
warks, I felt  that,  with  such  a leader,  at  the 
head  of  troops  animated  by  his  own  spirit, 
there  was  nothing  extravagant  in  the  boldest 
hopes  of  war. 

This  was  an  eventful  night;  and  there 
was  still  much  to  be  done  before  we  slept.  I 
threw  over  my  tattered  garments  one  of  the 
many  mantles  that  lay  loose  round  the  cham- 
ber, flung  another  on  the  body  of  the  Procura- 
tor, and  sallied  forth  to  give  the  final  orders 
of  the  night.  "The  prisoners  had  been  already 
secured,  and  I found  the  great  hall  of  the 
palace  crowded  with  their  officers.  The  in- 
terview was  whimsical : for  a while  I escaped 
recognition ; the  gashed  faces  and  torn  rai- 
ments of  my  hunters,  which  bore  the  marks 
of our  dreary  march  through  the  subterranean  : 
the  rough  heads  and  hands  stained  with  the 
fight,  a startling  contrast  to  the  perfect  equip- 
ment of  the  Roman  under  all  circumstances, 

Eve  them  the  look  of  the  wildest  of  the  rob- 
r tribes.  My  disguise  was  in  the  contrary 
way,  yet  complete.  The  cloak  was  acci- 
dentally one  of  the  most  showy  in  the  Pro- 
curator’s wardrobe.  I found  myself  enveloped 


in  furs  and  tissues;  and  their  Arab  acquaint- 
ance was  forgotten,  in  what  seemed  to  them 
the  legitimate  monarch  of  the  mountains. 

I was  received  by  the  circle  of  officers 
with  the  deference  which,  let  the  captor  be 
who  he  may,  marks  the  distinction  between 
him  and  his  prisoner;  yet  with  the  decent 
dignity  of  the  brave.  There  was  but  one  ex- 
ception, which  I might  have  guessed — the 
tribune.  He  was  all  humiliation,  stooped  to 
make  some  abject  request  about  his  baubles, 
and  was  probably  on  the  point  of  apologizing 
for  his  ever  having  taken  up  the  trade  of 
i war:  when  I turned  on  my  heel,  and  shook 
I hands  with  my  old  friend  the  captain.  He 
looked  in  evident  perplexity.  At  last,  through 
even  the  grim  evidences  of  the  night’s  work 
on  my  countenance,  and  the  problem  of  my 
pompous  mantle,  his  brightening  eye  began 
to  recognize  me ; and  he  burst  out  with, 
i “ The  Arab,  by  Jupiter !”  But  when  I asked 
him,  “ what  had  become  of  his  baggage,” 

1 touched  the  tender  string;  and,  with  a 
countenance  as  cast  down  as  if  he  had  sus- 
tained an  irreparable  calamity,  he  told  me 
that  his  whole  travelling  cellar  was  in  the 
hands  of  my  men  ; and  it  was  his  full  belief, 
that  he  was  at  that  moment  not  worth  a flask 
in  the  wide  world. 

The  tribune  turned  away  in  conscious  dis- 
grace; and  I sent  him  to  a dungeon,  to  medi- 
tate till  morn  on  the  awkwardness  of  inso- 
lence to  strangers.  With  the  others  I sat 
down  to  such  entertainments  as  a sacked  for- 
tress could  supply;  but  which  hunger,  thirst, 
and  fatigue,  rendered  worth  all  the  banquets 
of  the  idle.  The  old  captain  cheered  his 
j soul,  and  grew  rhetorical.  “ Wine,”  said  he, 
flask  in  hand,  “ does  wonders.  It  is  the  true 
leveller,  for  it  leaves  no  troublesome  inequali- 
ty of  conditions.  It  is  the  true  sponge,  that 
pays  all  debts  at  sight,  for  it  makes  us  forget 
the  existence  of  a creditor.  It  is  the  true 
friend,  that  sticks  by  a man  to  the  last  drop; 
the  faithful  mistress,  that  jilts  no  man;  and 
^he  most  charming  of  wives,  whose  tongue 
no  husband  hears,  whose  company  is  equally 
delightful  at  all  hours,  and  who  is  as  be- 
witching this  day  as  she  was  this  day  fifty 
years  ago.” 

The  panegyric  was  popular.  The  gover- 
nor’s cellar  flowed.  The  Italian  connoisseur- 
ship  in  vintages  was  displayed  in  the  most 
profound  style ; and  long  before  we  parted, 
the  great  “sponge”  which  wipes  away  debt, 
had  wiped  away  every  recollection  of  defeat. 
The  idea  of  their  being  prisoners,  never 
clouded  a sunbeam  that  came  from  the  bottle. 
The  letters  scattered  from  the  tribune’s  sad- 
dle were  an  unfailing  topic.  The  legion 
picked  them  up  on  the  march  ; they  had  the 
piquancy  of  scandal  of  their  particular 
friends;  and  the  addition  made  to  their  in- 
, telligence  by  my  wild  associate,  was  unani- 


Salathiel. 


95 


mously  declared  the  most  dexterous  piece  of 
frolic,  the  most  pleasant  venom,  and  the  most 
venomous  pleasantry,  that  ever  emanated 
from  the  wit  of  man. 

But  my  task  was  not  yet  done.  I left  those 
gay  soldiers  to  their  wine ; and  with  Con- 
stantius,  and  some  torchbearers,  hastened  to 
the  Armory  of  Herod — the  forbidden  ground; 
the  treasure-house  of  war ; and  if  old  rumor 
were  to  be  believed,’ the  place  of  many  a 
mysterious  celebration,  unlawful  to  be  seen 
by  human  eyes. 

The  building  was  in  the  centre  of  the  cita- 
del, and  was  "of  the  stateliest  architecture. 
The  massive  doors  were  thrown  open.  At 
the  first  step,  I sprang  from  the  blaze  of  steel 
and  gold  that  shot  back  against  the  torches. 
The  walls  of  this  gigantic  hall  were  covered 
with  arms  and  armor  of  every  nation — cuir- 
asses, Persian,  Roman,  and  Greek  ; the  plate- 
mail  of  the  Gaul;  the  Indian  chain-armor; — 
innumerable  head-pieces,  from  the  steel  cap 
of  the  Scythian,  to  the  plumed  and  triple- 
crested  helmet  of  the  Greek,  the  richest  com- 
bination of  strength  and  beauty  ever  borne 
by  soldiership — shields  of  every  shape  and 
sculpture;  the  Greek  orb;  the  Persian 
rhomb  ; the  Cimmerian  crescent ; — all  arms, 
the  ponderous  spear  of  the  phalanx ; the 
Thracian  pike;  the  German  war-hatchet; 
the  Italian  javelin; — the  bow,  from  the  Nu- 
bian, twice  the  height  of  man,  the  small  half 
circle  of  the  Assyrian  cavalry ; — swords,  the 
broad-bladed  and  fearful  falchion  of  the  Ro- 
man, every  thrust  of  which  let  out  a life ; the 
huge  two-handed  sword  of  the  Baltic  tribes  ; 
the  Syrian  scimetar;  the  Persian  acinaces; 
the  deep-hilted  knife  of  the  Indian  islander ; 
the  Arab  poniard  ; the  serrated  blade  of  the 
African ; all  were  there,  in  their  richest 
models — the  collection  of  Herod’s  life.  War 
had  raised  him  to  rank,  which  allowed  the 
indulgence  of  his  most  lavish  tastes  of  good 
and  ill ; the  sword  was  his  true  sceptre  ; and 
never  king  bore  the  sign  of  his  sovereignty 
more  royally  emblazoned. 

After  long  admiration  of  this  display  of  the 
wealth  dearest  to  the  soldier,  I was  retiring; 
when  a slave  approached,  and  prostrating 
himself,  told  me  that  a hall  remained,  still 
more  singular,  “ the  hall  in  which  the  Great 
Herod  received  his  death-warning.”  I gazed 
round  the  armory  ; there  was  no  door  but  the 
one  by  which  we  entered . 

“ Not  here,”  said  the  Ethiopian  ; “ yet  it 
is  beside  us.  The  foot  of  a Roman  has  never 
entered  it.  The  secret  remained  with  me 
alone.  Does  my  lord  command  that  it  shall 
be  revealed  1” 

The  order  was  given.  The  slave  took 
down  one  of  the  coats  of  mail,  pushed  back  a 
valve,  and  we  entered  a winding  stair  which 
led  us  downwards  for  some  minutes.  The 
narrow  passage  and  heavy  air  reminded  me 


of  the  subterranean.  Our  torches  burned 
dimly,  and  the  visages  of  my  attendants  show- 
ed how  little  their  gallantry  was  to  be  relied 
on  ; if  we  were  to  be  brought  in  contact  with 
magicians  and  ghosts. 

“ Here,”  said  the  Ethiopian,  “ it  was  the 
custom  of  the  great  king,  in  his  declining 
years,  when  his  heart  was  broken  by  the  loss 
of  the  most  beloved  of  his  wives,  and  mad- 
dened by  the  conspiracies  of  the  princes,  his 
sons,  to  come  and  consult  others  than  the 
God  of  Jerusalem.  Here  the  Chaldee  men 
of  wisdom  came  to  raise  the  spirits  of  the 
departed,  and  show  the  fates  of  his  king- 
dom. We  are  now  in  the  bowels  of  the 
; mountain.” 

He  loosed  a chain,  which  disappeared  into 
the  ground  with  a hollow  noise.  A huge 
mass  of  rock  slowly  rolled  back,  and  showed 
a depth  of  darkness  through  which  our  twink- 
ling torches  scarcely  made  way. 

“ Stop,”  said  the  slave,  “ I should  have 
first  lighted  the  shrine.”  He  left  us,  and  we 
shortly  saw  a blaze  of  many  colors  on  a tri- 
pod in  the  centre.  As  the  blaze  strengthened, 
a scene  of  wonder  awoke  before  the  eye.  A 
host  of  armed  men  grew  upon  the  darkness. 
.The  immense  vault  was  peopled  with  groups 
of  warriors,  all  the  great  military  leaders  of 
the  world  in  their  native  arms,  and  surround- 
ed by  a cluster  of  their  captains  ; the  disturb- 
ers of  the  earth,  from  Sesostris  down  to  Cee- 
sar  and  Anthony,  brandishing  the  lance,  or 
reining  the  charger,  each  in  his  known  atti- 
tude of  command.  There  rushed  Cyrus  in 
the  scythed  chariot,  surrounded  by  his  horse- 
men, barbed  from  head  to  heel.  There 
Alexander,  with  the  banner  of  Macedon  wav- 
ing above  his  head,  and  armed  as  when  ha 
leaped  into  the  Granicus.  There  Hannibal, 
upon  the  elephant  that  he  rode  at  Canee. 
There  Csesar,  with  the  head  of  Pompey  at  his 
feet.  Those,  and  a long  succession  of  the 
masters  of  victory,  each  in  the  moment  of 
supreme  fortune,  made  the  vault  a represen- 
tative palace  of  human  glory.  But  the  view 
from  the  entrance  told  but  half  the  tale.  It 
was  when  I advanced  and  lifted  the  torch  to 
the  countenance  of  the  first  group,  that  the 
moral  was  visible.  All  the  visages  were 
those  of  skeletons.  The  costly  armor  was 
upon  bones.  The  spears  and  sceptres  were 
brandished  by  the  thin  fingers  of  the  grave. 
The  vault  was  the  representative  sepulchre 
of  human  vanity. 

This  was  one  of  the  fantastic  fits  of  a mind 
which  felt  too  late  the  emptiness  of  earthly 
honors.  Half  pagan,  the  powerful  intellect 
of  the  man  gave  way  to  the  sullen  super- 
stitions of  the  murderer.  Egypt  was  still  the 
mystic  tyrant  of  Palestine ; and  Herod  in  his 
despair,  sank  into  the  slave  of  a credulity  a 
once  weak  and  terrible. 

In  the  last  hours  of  a long  and  deeply 


96 


Salathiel. 


varied  life,  exhausted  more  by  misery  of  soul  I 
than  disease ; when  medicine  was  hopeless,  | 
and  he  had  returned  from  trying  the  famous 
spring  of  Callirhoe  in  vain,  the  king  ordered 
himself  to  be  brought  into  this  vault,  and  left 
alone.  He  remained  in  it  for  some  hours. 
The  attendants  were  at  length  roused  by 
hideous  wailings;  they  broke  open  the  en- 
trance, and  found  him  in  a paroxysm  of  ter- 
ror. The  vault  was  filled  with  the  strong 
odors  of  some  magical  preparations  still  burn- 
ing on  the  tripod.  The  sound  of  departing: 
feet  was  heard,  but  Herod  sat  alone.  In  ac-  ■ 
cents  of  the  wildest  woe,  he  declared  that  he 
had  seen  the  statues  filled  with  sudden  life, 
and  charging  him  with  the  death  of  his  wife 
and  children. 

He  left  Masada  instantly,  pronouncing  a 
curse  upon  the  hour  in  which  he  first  listened 
to  the  arts  of  Egypt.  He  was  carried  to  Jeri- 
cho, and  there  laid  on  a bed  from  which  he 
never  rose.  Alternate  bursts  of  blasphemy 
and  remorse  made  his  parting  moments 
frightful.  But  tyranny  was  in  his  last 
thought;  and  he  died  holding  in  his  hand  the 
order  for  the  massacre  of  every  leading  man 
in  J udea. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

The  first  decided  blow  of  the  war  was 
given.  I had  incurred  the  full  wrath  of 
Rome ; the  trench  between  me  and  forgive- 
ness was  impassable ; and  I felt  a stern  de- 
light in  the  conviction  that  the  hope  of  truce 
or  pardon  was  at  an  end ; the  seizure  of  Ma- 
sada was  a defiance  of  the  whole  power  of 
the  empire. 

But  it  had  the  higher  importance  of  a tri- 
umph at  the  beginning  of  a war,  the  moment 
when  even  the  courageous  are  perplexed  by 
doubt,  and  the  timid  watch  their  opportunity 
to  raise  the  cry  of  ill  fortune.  It  showed  the 
facility  of  conquest,  where  men  are  deter- 
mined to  run  the  full  risk  of  good  or  evil;  it 
Bhook  the  military  credit  of  the  enemy,  by 
the  proof  that  they  could  be  over-matched  in 
activity,  spirit,  and  conduct.  The  capture 
of  a Roman  fortress  by  assault  was  a thing 
almost  unheard  of.  But  the  consummate 
value  of  the  enterprise  was  in  its  declaration 
to  those  who  would  fight;  that  they  had 
leaders  able  and  willing  to  take  the  last 
chance  with  them  for  the  freedom  of  their 
country. 

When  day  broke,  and  the  strength  of  this 
celebrated  fortress  was  fairly  visible,  I could 
scarcely  believe  that  our  success  was  alto- 
gether the  work  of  man.  The  genius  of  an- 
cient fortification  produced  nothing  more  re- 
markable than  Masada.  It  stood  on  the  sum- 
mit of  a height,  so  steep  that  the  sun  never 
reached  the  bottom  of  the  surrounding  defiles. 


Its  outer  wall  was  a mile  round,  with  thirty- 
eight  towers,  each  eighty  feet  high.  Im- 
mense marble  cisterns;  granaries,  like  pal- 
aces, capable  of  holding  provisions  for  years; 
exhaustless  arms  and  military  engines,  in 
buildings  of  the  finest  Greek  art;  and  de- 
fences of  the  most  costly  skill,  at  every  com- 
manding point  of  the  interior ; showed  the 
kingly  magnificence  and  warlike  care  of  the 
most  brilliant,  daring,  and  successful  monarch 
of  Judea,  since  Solomon. 

By  the  first  sun-beam,  a new  wonder 
struck  the  multitude,  whom  the  tumult  of 
the  night  had  gathered  on  the  neighboring 
hills.  I ordered  the  great  standard  of  Naph- 
tali  to  be  hoisted  on  the  citadel.  It  was 
raised  in  the  midst  of  shouts  and  hymns;  and 
the  huge  scarlet  fold  spread  out,  majestically 
displaying  the  emblem  of  our  tribe,  the  Sil- 
ver Stag,  before  the  morn.  Shouts  echoed 
and  re-echoed  round  the  horizon.  The  hill 
tops,  covered  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach, 
did  homage  to  the  banner  of  Jewish  deliver- 
ance; and,  inspired  by  the  sight,  every  man 
of  their  thousands  took  sword  and  spear,  and 
made  ready  for  battle. 

My  first  care  was  to  relieve  the  minds  of 
my  family;  and  Constantius,  with  triumph 
in  every  feature,  and  love  and  honor  glowing 
in  his  heart,  was  made  the  bearer  of  the  glad 
tidings. 

The  duties  of  command  devolved  rapidly 
on  me.  An  army  to  be  raised — a plan  of 
operations  to  be  determined  on — the  chief- 
tains of  the  country  to  be  combined — and  the 
profligate  feuds  of  Jerusalem  to  be  extin- 
guished; were  difficulties,  that  lay  before 
my  first  step.  It  is  in  preliminaries  like 
! those,  that  the  burning  spirit  of  man,  full  of 
the  manliest  resolutions,  and  caring  no  more 
for  personal  safety  than  he  cares  for  the  weed 
under  his  feet,  is  fated  to  feel  the  true  trou- 
bles of  high  enterprise. 

I soon  experienced  the  wretchedness  of 
having  to  contend  with  the  indolent,  the  art- 
ful and  the  base.  My  mind,  eager  to  follow 
up  the  first  success,  was  entangled  in  tedious 
and  intricate  negotiation,  with  men  whom 
no  sense  of  right  or  wrong  could  stimulate 
to  integrity.  Rival  interests  to  be  conciliated 
— gross  corruptions  to  be  crushed — paltry 
passions  to  be  stigmatized — family  hatreds  to 
be  reconciled — childish  antipathies — grasping 
avarice — giddy  ambition — savage  cruelty,  to 
be  rectified,  propitiated,  or  punished  ; were 
among  my  tasks,  before  I could  plant  a foot 
in  the  field.  If  those  are  the  fruits  that  grow 
round  even  the  righteous  cause,  what  must 
be  the  rank  crop  of  conspiracy  ! 

But,  one  point  I speedily  settled.  The 
first  assemblage  of  the  chieftains  satisfied 
me  of  the  absurdity  of  councils  of  war.  Every 
man  had  his  plan  ; and  every  plan  contem- 
I plated  some  personal  object.  I saw  that  to 


Salathiel. 


97 


discuss  them  would  be  useless  and  endless. 
I had  already  begun  to  learn  the  diplomatic 
art  of  taking  my  own  way,  with  the  most  un- 
ruffled aspect.  I begged  of  the  proposers  to 
reduce  their  views  to  writing;  received  their 
papers  with  perfect  civility ; took  them  to 
my  cabinet,  and  gave  their  brilliancy  to  add 
to  the  blaze  of  my  fire.  High  station  is  soon 
compelled  to  dissemble.  A month  before,  I 
should  have  spoken  out  my  mind,  and  treated 
the  plans  and  the  proposers  alike  with  scorn. 
But  a month  before  I was  neither  general 
nor  statesman.  Freed  from  the  encumbrance 
of  many  counsellors,  I decided  on  a rapid 
march  to  Jerusalem  ; — there  was  power  and 
glory  in  the  word  : by  this  measure  I should 
be  master  of  all  that  final  victory  could  give, 
the  popular  mind,  the  national  resources,  and 
the  highest  prize  of  the  most  successful  war. 

Those  thoughts  banished  rest  from  my  pil- 
low. I passed  day  and  night  in  a perpetual, 
feverish,  exaltation  of  mind  ; yet  if  I were  to 
compute  my  few  periods  of  happiness,  among 
them  would  be  the  week  when  I could  nei- 
ther eat,  drink,  nor  sleep,  from  the  mere  over- 
flowing of  my  warlike  reveries  at  Masada. 

We  may  well  forgive  the  splenetic  apathy 
and  sullen  scorn  of  life,  that  beset  the  holder 
of  power,  when  time  or  chance  leaves  his 
grasp  empty.  The  mighty  monarch;  the 
general,  on  whose  sword  hung  the  balance 
of  empires;  the  statesman,  on  whose  counsel 
rose  or  sank  the  welfare  of  millions  ; fallen 
into  inaction,  sunk  into  the  feeble  and  unex- 
citing employments  of  common  life,  their 
genius  and  their  fame  a burden  and  a re- 
proach, the  source  of  a restless  and  indignant 
contrast  between  what  they  were  and  what 
they  are;  how  feeble  an  emblem  of  such 
minds  is  the  lion  fanged,  or  the  eagle  chain- 
ed to  a log  ! We  may  pass  by  even  the  fool- 
eries which  so  often  make  the  world  stare  at 
the  latter  years  of  famous  men.  When  they 
can  no  longer  soar  to  their  natural  height,  all 
beneath,  is  equal  to  them ; our  petty  wisdom 
is  not  worth  their  trouble.  They  scorn  the 
little  opinions  of  common  place  mankind,  and 
follow  their  own  tastes — contemptuously 
trifle  and  proudly  play  the  fool. 

Before  the  week  was  out  I was  at  the 
head  of  a hundred  thousand  men  ; I was  the 
champion  of  a great  country;  the  leader  of 
the  most  formidable  insurrection  that  ever 
contended  with  Rome  in  the  East,  the  gene- 
ral of  an  army  whose  fidelity  and  spirit  were 
not  to  be  surpassed  on  earth.  Could  ambition 
ask  more ! There  was  even  more,  though 
too  solemn  to  be  asked  by  human  ambition. 
My  nation  was  sacred;  a cause  above  human 
nature  was  to  be  fought  for  ; in  that  cause  1 
might,  at  once,  redeem  my  own  name  from 
obscurity,  and  be  the  instrument  of  exalting 
the  name,  authority,  and  religion  of  a people, 
the  regal  people  of  the  Sovereign  of  all ! 


I Constantius  returned.  It  was  in  vain  that 
;I  had  directed  my  family  to  take  refuge  in 
the  mountain  country  of  Naphtali.  My  au- 
thority was  for  once  disputed  at  home.  Strong 
affection  mastered  fear,  and,  swift  as  love 
could  speed,  I saw  them  entering  the  gates 
of  Masada. 

Such  meetings  can  come  but  once  in  a 
life.  I was  surrounded  by  innocent  fondness, 
beauty  most  admirable,  and  faith  that  no  mis- 
fortune could  shake ; and  I was  surrounded 
by  them  in  an  hour  when  prosperity  seemed 
laboring  to  lavish  on  me  all  the  wishes  of 
man.  I felt  too,  by  the  glance  with  which 
Miriam  looked  upon  her  “ hero,”  that  I had 
earned  a higher  title  to  the  world’s  respect. 
Had  she  found  me  in  chains,  she  would  have 
shared  them  without  a murmur.  But  her 
lofty  heart  rejoiced  to  find  her  husband  thus 
vindicating  his  claims  to  the  homage  of  man- 
kind. 

t Yet  to  those  matchless  enjoyments  I gave 
up  but  one  day.  By  the  next  dawn  the  trum- 
pet sounded  for  the  march.  I knew  the  im- 
; portance  of  following  up  the  first  blow  in  all 
wars ; its  indispensable  importance  in  a war 
of  insurrection.  To  meet  the  disciplined 
troops  of  Rome  in  pitched  battles  would  be 
madness.  The  true  manoeuvre  was,  to  dis- 
tract their  attention  by  variety  of  onset,  cut 
off  their  communications,  keep  their  camps 
in  perpetual  alarm,  and  make  our  activity, 
numbers,  and  knowledge  of  the  country,  the 
substitutes  for  equipment,  experience  and  the 
science  of  the  soldier. 

In  summoning  those  brave  men,  I adhdred 
to  the  regulations  of  the  law  of  our  prophet ; 
a law  whose  humanity  and  regard  for  natural 
feelings,  distinguished  it  in  the  most  striking 
manner  from  the  stern  violence  of  the  pagan 
levy.  No  man  was  required  to  take  up  arms, 
who  had  built  a house  and  had  not  dedicated 
it ; no  man  who  had  planted  a vineyard  or 
olive  ground,  and  had  not  yet  reaped  the 
produce ; no  man  who  had  betrothed  a 
wife,  and  had  not  yet  taken  her  home; 
and  no  man  during  the  first  year  of  his 
marriage. 

My  prisoners  were  mv  last  embarrassment. 
To  leave  them  to  the  chance  of  popular  mercy, 
or  to  leave  them  immured  in  the  fortress, 
j would  be  cruelty.  To  let  them  loose,  would 
be,  of  course,  to  give  so  many  soldiers  to  the 
| enemy.  I adopted  the  simpler  expedient  of 
marching  them  to  Berytus,  seizing  a detach- 
'ment  of  the  Roman  provision  ships,  and  em- 
barking the  whole  for  Italy, 

To  ray  old  friend,  the  captain,  whose  cheer- 
fulness could  be  abated  only  by  a failure  of 
the  vintage,  I offered  a tranquil  settlement 
among  our  hills.  The  etiquette  of  soldiership 
was  formidably  tasked  by  my  offer,  for  the 
veteran  was  thoroughly  weary  of  his  thank- 
[ less  service.  He  hesitated,  swore  that  I de- 


98 


Salathiel. 


served  to  be  a Roman,  and  even  a captain  of 
horse ; but  finished  by  saying  that,  bad  a 
trade  as  the  army  was,  he  was  too  old  to 
learn  a better.  I gave  him  and  some  others 
their  unconditional  liberty;  and  he  parted 
from  the  Jewish  rebel  with  more  obvious  re- 
gret, than  perhaps  he  ever  dreamed  himself 
capable  of  feeling  for  any  thing  but  his  horse 
and  his  botttle. 

Eleazar  took  the  charge  of  my  family  and 
the  command  of  Masada.  The  sun  burst  out 
with  cheerful  omen  on  the  troops,  as  I wound 
down  the  steep  road,  named  the  Serpent, 
from  its  extreme  obliquity.  The  sight  before 
me  was  of  a nature  to  exhilarate  the  heaviest 
heart ; an  immense  host  making  the  air  ring 
with  acclamations  at  the  coming  of  their 
chieftain.  The  mental  perspective  of  public 
honors  and  national  service,  was  still  more 
exalting.  Yet  I felt  a boding  depression,  as 
if  within  those  walls  had  begun  and  ended 
my  prosperity. 

On  the  first  ridge  which  crossed  our 
march,  I instinctively  stopped  to  give  a fare- 
well look.  The  breeze  had  sunk,**and  the 
scarlet  banner  shook  out  its  folds  to  the  sun 
no  more  ; a cloud  hung  on  the  mountain  peak, 
and  covered  the  fortress  with  gloom.  I turn- 
ed away.  The  omen  was  true  ! 

But  sickly  thoughts  were  forgotten,  when 
we  were  once  fairly  on  the  march.  Who 
that  has  ever  moved  with  an  army,  has  not 
known  its  ready  cure  for  heaviness  of  heart? 
The  sound  of  the  moving  multitude,  their 
broad  mirth,  the  mere  trampling  of  their  feet, 
the  picturesque  lights  that  fall  upon  the  col- 
umns as  they  pass  over  the  inequalities  of 
the  ground,  keep  the  eye  and  the  mind  singu- 
larly alive. 

Our  men  felt  the  whole  delight  of  the 
scene;  and  gambolled  like  deer,  or  horses  let 
loose  into  pasture.  But,  to  the  military  habits 
of  Constantius,  this  rude  vigor  was  the  high- 
est vexation.  He  galloped  from  flank  to  flank 
with  hopeless  diligence,  found  that  his  ar- 
rangement only  perplexed  our  bold  peasantry 
the  more,  and  at  length  fairly  relinquished 
the  idea  of  gaining  any  degree  of  credit  by 
the  brilliancy  of  their  discipline.  But  t,  no 
more  a tactician  than  themselves,  was  content 
with  seeing  in  them  the  material  of  the  true 
soldier;  the  spear  was  carried  rudely,  but 
the  hand  that  carried  it  was  strong ; the 
march  was  irregular,  but  the  step  was  firm  ; 
if  there  was  song,  and  mirth,  and  clamor, 
they  were  the  cheerful  voices  of  the  brave ; 
and  I could  read  in  the  countenances  of  ranks, 
that  no  skill  could  keep  in  order,  the  hardi- 
hood and  generous  devotedness  that  in  wars 
like  ours,  have  so  often  baffled  the  proud,  and 
left  of  the  mighty  but  clay. 

During  the  day,  we  saw  no  enemy  ; and 
drove  along  with  the  unembarrassed  step  of 
men  going  up  to  one  of  the  festivals.  The 


march  was  hot,  the  zeal  of  our  young  soldiers 
made  it  rapid,  and  we  continued  it  long  after 
their  usual  hour  of  repose.  But  then  sleep 
took  its  thorough  revenge.  It  was  fortunate 
for  our  fame  that  the  enemy  were  not  nigh  ; 
for  sleep  fastened  irresistibly  and  at  once 
upon  the  whole  multitude.  Sentinels  were 
planted  in  vain ; the  spears  fell  from  their 
hands,  and  the  watchers  were  tranquilly  laid 
side  by  side  with  the  slumbering.  Outposts 
and  the  usual  precautionary  arrangements 
were  equally  useless.  Sleep  was  our  master. 
Constantius  exerted  his  vigilance  with  fruit- 
less activity ; and  before  an  hour  passed,  he 
and  I were  probably  the  sole  sentinels  of  the 
grand  army  of  Judea. 

“ What  can  be  done  with  such  sluggards?” 
said  he,  indignantly  pointing  to  the  heaps 
that,  wrapped  in  their  cloaks,  covered  the 
field  far  round,  and  in  the  moonlight  looked 
more  like  surges  tipped  with  foam  than  hu- 
man beings. 

“ What  can  be  done  ? — wonders.” 

“ Will  they  ever  be  able  to  manoeuvre  in 
the  face  of  the  legions  V 

“ Never.” 

“ Will  they  ever  be  able  to  move  like 
regular  troops?” 

“ Never.” 

“ Will  they  ever  be  able  to  keep  their  eyes 
open  after  sunset  ?” 

“ Never,  after  such  a march  as  we  have 
given  them  to-day.” 

“ What  then,  under  heaven,  will  they  be 
good  for  ?” 

“ To  beat  the  Romans  out  of  Palestine  l” 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

Before  the  sun  was  up,  my  peasants  were 
on  the  march  again.  From  the  annual  jour- 
neys of  the  tribes  to  the  great  city,  no  coun- 
try was  ever  known  so  well  to  its  whole  popu- 
lation as  Palestine.  Every  hill,  forest,  and 
mountain  stream,  was  now  saluted  with  the 
shout  of  old  recognition.  Discipline  was  for- 
gotten, as  we  approached  those  spots  of  mem- 
ory ; and  the  troops  rambled  loosely  over  the 
ground  on  which  in  gentler  times  they  had 
rested  in  the  midst  of  their  caravans.  Con- 
stantius had  many  an  irritation  to  encounter; 
but  I combated  his  wrath,  and  pledged  my- 
self, that  when  the  occasion  arrived,  my 
countrymen  would  show  the  native  vigor  of 
the  soil. 

“ Let  those  brave  peasants  take  their  way,” 
said  I.  “ If  they  will  not  make  an  army,  let 
them  make  a mob;  let  them  come  into  the 
field  with  the  bold  propensities  and  generous 
passions  of  their  nature,  unchecked  by  the 
trammels  of  regular  warfare  : let  them  feel 
themselves  men  and  not  machines,  and  I 
pledge  myself  for  their  victory.” 


Salathiel. 


99 


“They  will  soon  have  an  opportunity;  look 
yonde/.”  He  pointed  to  a low  range  of  misty 
hills  some  miles  onward. 

“ Are  we  to  fight  the  clouds  ! for  I can  see 
nothing  else.” 

“Our  troops,  I think,  would  be  exactly  the 
proper  antagonists.  But  there  is  one  cloud 
upon  those  hills,  that  something  more  than 
the  wind  must  drive  away.” 

The  sun  threw  a passing  gleam  upon  the 
heights,  and  it  was  returned  by  the  sparkling 
of  spears.  The  enemy  was  before  us.  Con- 
stantius  galloped  with  some  of  our  hunters  to 
the  front  to  observe  their  position.  The  trum- 
pets sounded,  and  my  countrymen  justified 
all  that  I had  said,  by  the  enthusiasm  that 
lighted  up  every  countenance  at  the  hope  of 
coming  in  contact  with  the  oppressor.  We 
advanced;  shouts  rang  from  tribe  to  tribe; 
we  quickened  our  pace;  at  length  the  whole 
multitude  ran.  At  the  foot  of  the  height 
every  man  pushed  forward  without  waiting 
for  his  fellow;  it  was  a complete  confusion. 
The  chief  force  against  us  was  cavalry,  and 
I saw  them  preparing  to  charge.  We  must 
suffer  prodigiously,  let  the  day  end  how  it 
would.  The  whole  campaign  might  hang  on 
the  first  impulse.  1 stood  in  agony.  I saw 
the  squadron  level  their  lances.  I saw  the 
centurions  dash  out  in  front.  All  was  ready 
for  the  fatal  charge.  To  my  astonishment, 
the  whole  of  the  cavalry  wheeled  round  and 
disappeared. 

The  panic  was  like  miracle — equally  rapid 
and  unaccountable.  1 rode  to  the  top  of  the 
hill,  and  discovered  the  secret.  Constantius, 
observing  the  enemy’s  attention  taken  up 
with  my  advance,  had  made  his  way  round 
the  heights.  His  trumpet  gave  the  first 
notice  of  the  manoeuvre.  Their  rear  was 
threatened,  and  the  cavalry  fled,  leaving  a 
cohort  in  our  hands. 

The  first  success  in  war  is  as  full  of  con- 
sequences as  the  first  repulse.  The  flight 
and  capture  of  any  fragment  of  the  legions, 
was  magnified  into  a sign  of  perpetual  tri- 
umph. But  never  was  successful  soldier 
honored  with  a more  clamorous  triumph 
than  Constantius.  Nature  speaks  out  among 
her  untutored  sons.  Envy  has  nothing  to  do 
in  such  a field  as  ours.  He  was  applauded 
to  the  skies. 

“Well,”  said  T,  as  T pressed  the  gallant 
hand  that  had  planted  the  first  laurel  on 
our  brows;  “you  see  that,  if  ploughmen  and 
shepherds  make  rude  soldiers,  they  make 
capital  judges  of  soldiership.  You  might 
have  conquered  a kingdom  without  receiving 
half  this  panegyric  in  Rome.” 

“ The  service  is  but  begun,  and  we  shall 
have  another  lesson  to  get  or  give  before  to- 
morrow. Those  fellows  are  grateful,  I 
allow,”  said  he,  with  a smile,  “but  you  must 
allow  that,  for  what  has  been  done,  we  have 


J to  thank  the  discipline  that  brought  us  in  the 
Roman  rear.” 

“ Yes,  and  the  discipline  that  made  them 
so  much  alarmed  about  their  rear  as  to  run 
away,  when  they  might  have  charged  and 
beaten  us.” 

This  little  affair  put  us  all  in  spirits,  and 
the  songs  and  cheerful  clamors  burst  out 
with  renewed  animation.  But  the  symp- 
toms of  the  enemy  soon  became  thicker. 
We  found  the  ruined  cottage,  the  torn-up 
garden,  the  burnt  orchard;  those  habitual 
evidences  of  the  camp.  As  we  advanced, 
the  tracks  of  wagons  and  of  the  huge  wheels 
of  the  military  engines  were  fresh  in  the 
' grass ; and  from  time  to  time  some  skeleton 
of  a beast  of  burden,  or  some  half-covered 
wreck  of  man,  showed  that  desolation  had 
walked  there;  the  cavalry  soon  showed 
themselves  on  the  heights  in  larger  bodies; 
but  all  was  forgotten  in  the  sight  that  at 
length  rose  upon  the  horizon  ; we  beheld, 
bathed  in  the  richest  glow  of  a summer’s 
eve,  the  summits  of  the  mountains  round 
Jerusalem,  and  glorious  above  them,  like 
another  sun,  the  golden  beauty  of  the  Tem- 
ple of  temples. 

What  Jew  ever  saw  that  sight  but  with 
homage  of  heart!  Fine  fancies  may  de- 
claim of  the  rapture  of  returning  to  one’s 
country  after  long  years.  Rapture  ! to  find 
ourselves  in  a land  of  strangers,  ourselves 
forgotten,  our  early  scenes  so  changed,  that 
we  can  scarcely  retrace  them,  filled  up  with 
new  faces,  or  with  the  old  so  worn  by  time 
and  care  that  we  read  in  them  nothing  but 
the  emptiness  of  human  hope ; the  whole 
! world  new,  frivolous,  and  contemptuous  of 
our  feelings.  Where  is  the  mother,  the  sis- 
ter, the  women  of  our  heart!  We  find 
their  only  memorials  among  the  dead,  and 
bitterly  feel  that  our  true  country  is  the 
tomb. 

But  the  return  to  Zion  was  not  of  the 
things  of  this  world.  The  Jew  saw  before 
him  the  city  of  prophecy  and  power.  Mor- 
tal thoughts,  individual  sorrows,  the  melan- 
choly experiences  of  human  life,  had  no 
place  among  the  mighty  hopes  that  gathered 
over  it,  like  angels  wings.  Restoration, 
boundless  empire,  imperishable  glory,  were 
the  writing  upon  its  bulwarks.  It  stood  before 
him  the  Universal  City,  whose  gates  were  to 
be  open  for  the  reverence  of  all  time ; the 
symbol  to  the  earth  of  the  returning  presence 
of  the  Great  King;  the  promise  to  the  Jew 
of  an  empire,  triumphant  over  the  casualties 
of  nations,  the  crimes  of  man,  and  the  all- 
grasping  avarice  of  the  grave. 

The  multitude  prostrated  themselves;  then 
rising,  broke  forth  into  the  glorious  hymn 
sung  by  the  tribes  on  their  journeys  to  the 
Temple. 

“ Great  is  the  Lord,  and  greatly  to  be  prais- 


Salalhiel. 


100 


ed  in  the  city  of  our  God,  the  mountain  of  his 
holiness. 

“Beautiful,  the  joy  of  the  earth,  is  Mount 
Zion,  the  city  of  the  Great  King- ! 

“ God  is  known  in  her  palaces  for  a refuge. 

“ We  have  thought  of  thy  loving  kindness, 

0 God,  in  the  midst  of  thy  temple. 

“ Walk  about  Zion  ; tell  the  towers  there- 
of. Mark  ye  her  bulwarks ; consider  her 
palaces.  For  her  God  is  our  God,  forever  and 
ever ; he  will  be  our  guide  in  death ; his  praise 
is  to  the  ends  of  the  earth.  Glory  to  the  King 
of  Zion.” 

The  harmony  of  the  adoring  myriads  rose 
sweet  and  solemn  upon  the  air ; the  sky  was 
a canopy  of  sapphire;  the  breeze  rich  with 
the  evening  flowers ; Jerusalem  before  me ! 

1 felt  as  if  the  covering  of  my  mortal  nature 
were  about  to  be  cast  away,  and  my  spirit  to 
go  forth,  divested  or  its  grosser  incumbrances, 
on  a bright  and  boundless  career  of  fortune. 

But  recollections,  never  to  be  subdued,  sad- 
dened my  memory  of  the  Temple  ; and  when 
the  first  influence  of  the  worship  passed,  I 
turned  from  the  sight  of  what  was  to  me  the 
eternal  monument  of  the  heaviest  crime  and 
calamity  of  man.  I gave  one  parting  glance  I 
as  day  died  upon  the  spires.  To  my  surprise, 1 
they  were  darkened  by  more  than  twilight; 

I glanced  again,  smoke  rolled  cloud  on  cloud 
over  Mount  Moriah ; flame  and  the  distant 
roar  of  battle  started  us — “ had  the  enemy 
anticipated  our  march,  and  was  Jerusalem 
about  to  be  stormed  before  our  eyes  1” 

We  were  not  long  left  to  conjecture. 
Crowds  of  frightened  women  and  children 
were  seen  flying  across  the  country.  The 
roar  swelled  again  ; we  answered  it  by  cries 
of  indignation,  and  rushed  onward.  Unable 
to  ascertain  the  point  of  attack,  I halted  the 
multitude  at  the  entrance  of  one  of  the  roads 
ascending  to  the  great  gate  of  the  upper  city, 
and  galloped  forward  with  a few  of  my  people. 

A horseman  rushed  from  the  gate  with  a 
'heedless  rapidity  which  must  have  flung  him 
into  the  midst  of  us,  or  sent  him  over  the  pre- 
cipice. His  voice  alone  enabled  me  to  recog- 
nize in  this  furious  rider  my  kinsman  Jubal. 
But  never  had  a few  months  so  altered  a hu- 
man being.  Instead  of  the  bold  and  martial 
figure  of  the  chieftain,  I saw  an  emaciated 
and  exhausted  man,  apparently  in  the  last 
stage  of  life  and  sorrow  : the  florid  cheek  was 
of  the  color  of  clay ; the  flashing  glance  was 
sunken ; the  loud  and  cheerful  voice  was  se- 
pulchral. I welcomed  him  with  the  natural 
regard  of  our  relationship;  but  his  perturba- 
tion was  fearful : he  trembled,  grey  fiery  red, 
and  could  return  my  greeting  only  with  a 
feeble  tongue  and  wild  eye. 

But  this  was  no  time  for  private  feelings. 

I inquired  the  state  of  things  in  Jerusalem. 
Here  his  embarrassment  was  thrown  aside, 
and  the  natural  energy  of  the  man  found  room. 


“ Jerusalem  has  three  curses  at  this  hour,’ 
said  he,  fiercely,  “ the  priests,  the  people,  and 
the  Romans  ; and  the  last  is  the  lightest  of 
the  three.  The  priests,  bloated  with  indul- 
gence, and  mad  with  the  love  of  the  world ; 
the  people,  pampered  with  faction,  and  mad 
I with  bigotry;  and  the  Romans  availing  them- 
selves of  the  madness  of  each  to  crush  all.” 

“ But  has  the  assault  been  actually  made  T 
or  is  there  force  enough  within  to  repel  it  1” 
interrupted  I. 

“ The  assault  has  been  made,  and  the  ene- 
my have  driven  every  thing  before  them,  so 
far  as  has  been  their  pleasure.  Why  they 
have  not  pushed  on  is  inconceivable,  for  our 
regular  troops  are  good  for  nothing.  I have 
been  sent  out  to  raise  the  villages;  but  my 
labor  will  be  useless,  for,  see,  the  eagles  are 
already  on  the  wall.” 

I looked  ; on  the  northern  quarter  of  the 
battlements  I saw,  through  smoke  and  flame, 
the  accursed  standard.  Below,  rose  immense 
bursts  of  conflagration ; the  whole  of  the  New 
City,  the  Bezetha,  was  on  fire. 

My  plan  was  instantly  formed..  I divided 
my  force  into  two  bodies;  gave  one  to  Con- 
stantius,  with  orders  to  enter  the  city,  and 
beat  the  Romans  from  the  walls;  and  with 
the  other,  threaded  the  ravines  toward  their 
position  on  the  hills.  I had  to  make  a long 
circuit.  The  Roman  camp  was  pitched  on 
the  ridge  of  Mount  Scopas,  seven  furlongs 
from  the  city.  Guided  by  Jubal,  I gained  its 
rear.  My  troops,  stimulated  by  the  sight"  of 
the  fugitive  people,  required  all  my  efforts  to 
keep  them  from  rushing  on  the  detachments 
that  we  saw  successively  hurrying  to  reinforce 
the  assault. 

Night  fell ; but  the  signal  for  my  attack,  a 
fixed  number  of  torches  on  the  tower  of  the 
Temple,  did  not  appear.  The  troops,  ambush- 
ed in  the  olive-groves  skirting  the  ridge,  had 
hitherto  escaped  discovery.  At  length  they 
grew  furious,  and  bore  me  along  with  them. 
As  we  burst  up  the  rugged  sides  of  the  hill, 
like  a huge  surge  before  the  tempest,  I cast 
a despairing  glance  towards  the  city  : the 
torches  at  that  moment  rose.  Hope  lived 
again.  I pointed  them  out  to  the  troops:  the 
sight  added  wings  to  their  speed  ; and,  before 
the  enemy  could  recover  from  their  astonish- 
ment, we  were  in  the  centre  of  the  camp. 

Nothing  could  be  more  complete  than  our 
success.  The  legionaries,  sure  of  the  morn- 
ing’s march  into  Jerusalem,  and  the  plunder 
of  the  Temple,  were  caught  leaning  in  crowds 
over  the  ramparts,  unarmed,  and  making  ab- 
solute holiday.  Caius  Cestius,  their  insolent 
general,  was  carousing  in  his  tent  after  the 
fatigues  of  the  evening.  The  tribune-  follow- 
ed his  example;  the  soldiery  saw  nothing  to 
require  their  superior  abstemiousness,  and  the 
wine  was  flowing  freely  in  healths  to  the  next 
day’s  rapine,  when  our  roar  opened  their  eyes. 


Salathiel. 


101 


To  resist  was  out  of  the  question.  Fifty  thou- 
sand spearmen,  as  daring-  as  ever  lifted  wea- 
pon, and  inflamed  with  the  feelings  of  their 
harrassed  country,  were  in  the  midst,  and  they  1 
ran  in  all  directions.  I pressed  on  to  the  gene-  j 
ral’s  tent ; but  the  prize  had  escaped  ; he  was 
gone,  on  the  first  alarm.  My  followers  indig- 
nantly set  it  on  fire  : the  blaze  spread,  and 
the  flame  of  the  Roman  camp  rolled  up,  like 
the  flame  of  a sacrifice  to  the  god  of  battles. 

The  seizure  of  the  position  was  the  ruin  of 
the  detachments  abandoned  between  the  hill 
and  the  city.  At  the  sight  of  the  flames  the 
gates  were  flung  open ; and  Constantius  drove 
the  assailants  from  point  to  point,  until  our 
shouts  told  him  that  we  were  marching  upon 
their  rear.  The  shock  then  was  final.  The 
cohorts,  dispirited  and  surprised,  broke  like 
water;  and  scarcely  a man  of  them  lived  to 
boast  of  having  insulted  the  walls  of  Jerusalem. 

Day  arose;  and  the  Temple  met  the  rising 
beam,  unstained  by  the  smoke  of  an  enemy’s 
fire.  The  wreck  of  the  legions  lay  upon  the 
declivities,  like  the  fragments  of  a fleet  upon 
the  shore.  But  this  sight,  painful  even  to  an 
enemy,  was  soon  forgotten  in  the  concourse 
of  the  rescued  citizens,  the  exultation  of  the 
troops,  and  the  still  more  seducing  vanities 
that  filled  the  heart  of  their  chieftain. 

Towards  noon  a long  train  of  the  principal 
people,  headed  by  the  priests  and  elders,  was 
seen  issuing  from  the  gates  to  congratulate 
me.  Music  and  triumphant  shouts  announced 
their  approach  through  the  valley.  My  heart 
bounded  with  the  feelings  of  a conqueror.  The 
whole  long  vista  of  national  honors,  the  popu- 
lar praise,  personal  dignity,  the  power  of 
trampling  upon  the  malignant,  the  clearance  of 
my  character,  the  right  to  take  the  future  lead 
on  all  occasions  of  public  service  and  princely 
renown,  opened  before  my  dazzled  eye. 

I was  standing  alone  upon  the  brow  of  the 
promontory.  As  far  as  the  eye  could  reach  all 
was  in  motion,  and  all  was  directed  to  me  : 
the  homage  of  soldiery,  priests,  and  people, 
centred  in  my  single  being.  I involuntarily 
uttered  aloud — “ At  last,  I shall  enter  Jeru- 
salem in  triumph.”  I heard  a voice  at  my 
side — “ Never  shall  you  enter  Jerusalem,  but 
in  sorrow !” 

An  indescribable  pang  accompanied  the 
words.  There  was  not  a living  soul  near  me 
to  have  uttered  them.  The  troops  were  stand- 
ing at  a distance  below,  and  in  perfect  silence. 
The  words  were  spoken  close  to  mv  ear.  But 
I fatally  knew  the  voice,  and  conjecture  was 
at  an  end. 

My  limbs  felt  powerless,  as  if  I had  been 
struck  by  lightning.  I called  Jubal  up  the 
peak  to  assist  me.  But  the  blow  that  smote 
my  frame  seemed  to  have  smote  his  mind. 
His  look  had  grown  tenfold  more  haggard  in 
this  single  night.  His  eyes  rolled  wildly ; 
his  speech  was  a collection  of  unmeaning 


sounds,  or  the  language  of  a fierce  disturbance 
of  thought,  altogether  unintelligible.  A luna- 
tic stood  before  me. 

Was  this  to  be  the  foretaste  of  my  own  in- 
fliction 1 I shuddered  as  the  past  horrors  rose 
upon  my  memory.  Or  was  I to  see  my  kin- 
dred, friends,  family,  put  under  the  yoke  of 
bodily  and  mental  misery,  as  a menace  of  the 
punishment  that  was  to  cut  asunder  my  con- 
nection with  human  nature! 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

In  pain  and  terror  I drew  my  unfortunate 
kinsman  from  the  gaze  of  the  troops;  and  en- 
treated him  to  tell  me,  by  what  melancholy 
chance  his  feelings  had  been  thus  disturbed. 
He  looked  at  me  with  a fierce  glance,  and 
half  unsheathed  his  dagger.  But  I was  not  to 
be  repelled  ; and  still  labored  to  sooth  him. 
He  hurriedly  grasped  the  weapon,  flung  it 
down  the  steep,  and  sinking  at  my  feet  burst 
into  tears. 

An  uproar  in  the  valley  roused  me  from  the 
contemplation  of  this  wreck  of  youth  and  hope. 
The  enemy,  though  defeated,  had  suffered 
little  comparative  loss.  The  pride  of  the  le- 
gions could  not  brook  the  idea  of  defeat,  by 
what  they  deemed  the  rabble  of  the  city  and 
the  fields.  Cestius,  under  cover  of  the  broken 
country  on  our  flanks,  had  rallied  the  fugitives 
of  the  camp;  and  now,  between  me  and  the 
city,  were  rapidly  advancing  in  columns,  forty 
thousand  men. 

The  manoeuvre  was  bold.  It  might  either 
cut  us  off  from  Jerusalem,  and  force  us  to  fight 
at  a ruinous  disadvantage  ! or  leave  the  city 
totally  exposed.  But,  like  all  daring  games, 
it  was  perilous;  and  I was  determined  to  make 
the  haughty  Roman  feel  that  he  had  an  antag- 
onist, who  would  not  leave  the  game  at  his 
discretion. 

From  the  pinnacle  on  which  I stood,  the 
whole  campaign  lay  beneath  me.  Nothing 
could  be  lovelier.  The  grandest  combinations 
of  art  and  nature  were  before  the  eye — Jeru- 
salem on  her  hills,  a city  of  palaces,  and  in 
that  hour  displaying  her  full  pomp  ; her  tow- 
ers streaming  with  banners  ; her  battlements 
crowded  with  troops;  her  priesthood  and  citi- 
zens in  their  festal  habits,  pouring  from  the 
colossal  gates,  and  covering  the  plain  with 
processions ; that  plain  itself  colored  and  teem- 
ing with  the  richest  produce  of  the  earth ; 
groves  of  the  olive  ; declivities,  purple  with 
the  vine,  or  yellow  with  corn,  gleaming-  in  the 
sun,  sheets  of  vegetable  gold,  richer  than  ever 
was  dug  from  Indian  mine. 

I gazed  with  an  eye  enraptured  by  the 
scene  of  beauty.  But  the  signals  of  my  ad- 
vanced parties  along  the  heights,  soon  told  me 
that  the  enemy  w-ere  in  movement. 

My  plan  was  already  adopted.  On  the  right 


102 


Salalhiel. 


spread  the  plain  ; on  the  left  lay  the  broken 
and  hilly  country,  through  which  the  enemy 
were  moving  by  the  three  principal  ravines. 
I felt  that,  if  they  could  unite  and  form,  suc- 
cess, with  our  undisciplined  levies,  wasdespe- 
rate.  The  only  hope  was,  of  beating  the  col- 
umns separately,  as  they  emerged  into  the 
plain.  The  moment  of  action  rapidly  ar-, 
riving,  Cavalry  had  begun  to  scatter  over  the 
ground,  and  ride  down  upon  the  processions  ; 
which,  startled  at  the  sight,  were  instantly 
scattered,  and  Hying  towards  Jerusalem. 

“ The  day  of  congratulation  is  clearly  over,” 
said  Jubal,  pointing  in  scorn  to  the  dispersed 
citizens.  “ To-day,  at  least,  you  will  not 
receive  the  homage  of  those  hypocrites  of 
the  Sanhedrim.” 

“ Nor,  perhaps,  to-morrow,  fellow  soldier, 
for  we  must  first  see  of  what  materials  those 
columns  are  made.  If  we  beat  them,  we  shall 
save  the  elders  the  trouble  of  crossing  the  plain, 
and  receive  their  honors  within  the  walls. 

“ In  Jerusalem  !”  exclaimed  he,  wildly. 
“No;  never!  You  have  dangers  to  encounter 
within  those  walls,  that  no  art  of  man  could 
withstand  ; dangers  keener  than  the  dagger, 
more  deadly  than  the  aspic,  more  resistless 
than  the  force  of  armies!  Enter  Jerusalem, 
and  you  are  undone.” 

I looked  upon  him  with  astonishment.  But 
there  was  in  his  eye  a sad  humility,  a strange- 
ly imploring  glance,  that  formed  the  most 
singular  contrast  to  the  wildness  of  his  words. 
“Be  warned  !”  said  he,  pressing  close,  as  if 
he  dreaded  that  his  secret  should  be  over- 
heard. “ I have  seen  horrid  things,  I have 
heard  horrid  things,  since  I last  entered  the 
city.  Beware  of  the  leaders  of  Jerusalem! 

I tell  you  that  they  have  fearful  power,  that 
their  hate  is  inexorable,  and  that  you  are  its 
great  victim !” 

“ This  is  altogether  beyond  my  conception: 
how  have  I offended  1” 

“ I know  not ; but  mysterious  things  are 
whispered.  You  are  charged  with  unutter- 
ble  acts.  Your  sudden  abandonment  of  the 
priesthood : sights  seen  in  your  deserted 
chambers,  which  not  even  the  most  daring 
would  venture  to  inhabit: — your  escape  from 
dangers,  that  must  have  extinguished  any 
other  human  being,  have  bred  fatal  rumors. 
It  has  been  said  that  you  worshipped  in’  the 
bowels  of  the  mountain  of  Masada,  where  the 
magic  fire  burns  eternally  before  the  form  of 
the  Evil  one;  that  you  even  conquered  the 
fortress,  impregnable  as  it  was  to  man,  by  a 
horrid  compact ; and  that  the  raising  of  your 
standard  was  the  declared  sign  of  that  com- 
pact, dreadfully  to  be  repaid  by  you  and  yours!” 

“ Monstrous  and  incredible  calumny  ! 
Where  was  their  evidence?  My  actions 
were  before  the  face  of  the  world.  Hypo- 
crites and  villains !” 


“If  your  virtues  were  written  in  a sun 
beam,  envy  would  darken,  malice  pervert,  and 
hatred  destroy  exclaimed  my  kinsman,  with 
the  bold  countenance  and  manly  feeling  of 
his  better  days.  “ They  have  in  their  secret 
councils  stained  you  with  a fate  more  gloomy 
than  I can  comprehend that  you  are  sen- 

tenced even  here  to  the  misery  reserved  for 
the  guilty  beyond  the  grave.” 

I felt  as  if  he  had  stricken  a lance  through 
my  heart.  Mortal  sickness  seized  on  every 
vein.  My  blood  was  ice.  Fiery  sparkles  shot 
before  my  eyes.  “ There,”  thought  I,  “ is  the 
first  infliction  of  the  sentence  that  is  to  sepa- 
rate, to  smite,  to  pursue  me,  to  the  last  hour 
of  time  !” 

I instinctively  put  my  hand  to  my  brow,  to 
feel  if  the  mark  of  Cain  was  not  already  there. 
I gave  one  hurried  glance  at  Heaven,  as  if  to 
see  the  form  of  the  destroying  angel  stooping 
over  me. 

But  the  consciousness  that  I was  in  the 
presence  of  the  multitude,  compelled  me  to 
master  my  feelings.  I assums*!  a desperate 
firmness,  and  commanded  Jubal  to  be  ready 
with  his  proofs  of  those  calumnies,  against 
the  time  when  I should  confound  my  accusers. 
But  I spoke  to  the  winds.  I need  have  dread- 
ed no  observer  in  him.  The  interval  of  rea- 
son was  gone.  He  burst  out  into  the  fiercest 
horrors. 

“ They  pursue  me  !”  exclaimed  he ; “ they 
come  by  thousands,  with  the  poinard  and  the 
poison  ! they  cry  for  blood  ! they  would  drive 
me  to  a crime  black  as  their  own  !’’ 

He  flung  himself  at  my  feet:  and  clasping 
them,  prevented  every  effort  to  save  him 
from  this  degradation.  He  buried  his  face  in 
my  robe  ; and  casting  up  a sacred  look  from 
time  to  time,  as  if  he  shrank  from  some  ob- 
ject of  terror,  apostrophized  his  vision. 

“ Fearful  being,”  he  cried,  “spare  me;  turn 
away  those  searching  eyes,  I have  sworn  to  do 
the  deed,  and  it  shall  be  done.  I have  sworn 
it  against  faith  and  honor,  against  the  ties  of 
nature,  against  the  laws  of  Heaven;  but  it 
shall  be  done.  Now,  begone!  See!”  he 
cowered,  pointing  t,o  a cloud  that  floated 
across  the  sun  ; “ see,  he  spreads  his  wings, 
he  hovers  over  me;  the  thunders  are  flaming 
in  his  hands.  Begone,  spirit  of  power  and 
evil ! It  shall  be  done ! Look,  where  he 
vanishes  into  the  heights  of  his  kingdom  ! the 
prince  of  the  power  of  the  air.” 

The  cloud  that  fed  the  fancy  of  my  unfor- 
tunate kinsmen  dissolved,  and  with  it  his  fear 
of  the  tempter.  But  he  lay  exhausted  at  my 
feet, — his  eyes  closed,  his  limbs  shuddered, 
— the  emblem  of  weakness  and  despair.  I 
tried  to  rouse  hirn  by  that  topic  which  would 
once  have  shot  new  life  into  his  heroic 
heart. 

“Rise,  Jubal;  and  see  the  enemy,  whom 


Salalhiel. 


103 


we  have  so  long  thirsted  to  meet.  This  bat- 
tle must  not  be  fought  without  you.  To-day, 
neither  magic  nor  chance  shall  be  imputed  to 
the  conqueror,  if  I shall  conquer.  Jerusalem 
sees  the  battle : and  before  the  face  of  my 
country  I will  show  the  faculties  that  make 
the  leader,  or  will  leave  the  last  drop  of  my 
blood  upon  those  fields.” 

The  warrior  kindled  within  him.  He 
sprang  from  the  ground,  and  shot  down  an 
eagle  glance  at  the  enemy,  who  had  made 
rapid  progress,  and  were  beginning  to  show 
the  heads  of  their  columns  in  the  plain.  He 
was  unarmed;  I gave  him  my  sword:  and 
the  proud  humility  with  which  he  put  it  to 
his  lips,  was  a pledge  to  me  that  it  would  be 
honored  in  his  hands. 

“ Glorious  thing !”  he  exclaimed,  as  he 
flashed  it  before  the  sun,  “ that  raises  man  at 
once  to  the  height  of  human  honors,  or  sends 
him  where  no  care  can  disturb  his  rest ; thou 
art  the  true  sceptre  that  guards  and  graces 
empires;  the  true  talisman,  more  powerful 
than  all  the  arts  of  the  enchanter  ! What, 
like  thee,  can  lift  up  the  lowly,  enrich  the 
destitute,  restore  the  undone  ! What  talent, 
consummate  knowledge,  gift  of  nature,  nay, 
what  smile  of  fortune  can,  like  thee,  in  one 
hour  bid  the  obscure  stand  forth  the  idol  of  a 
people,  or  the  wonder  of  a world  ! Now,  for 
glory  !”  he  shouted  to  the  listening  circle  of 
the  troops,  who  answered  him  with  shouts. 
“ Now,  for  glory  !”  they  cried,  and  poured 
after  him  down  the  side  of  the  mountain. 

The  three  gorges  of  the  valleys  through 
which  the  enemy  moved,  opened  into  the 
plain  at  wide  intervals  from  each  other.  I 
delayed  our  march  until  the  moment  at  which 
the  nearest  column  should  show  its  head.  1 
saw  that  the  eagerness  of  Cestius  to  reach 
the  open  ground  was  already  hurrying  his 
columns ; and,  that  from  the  comparative 
facilities  of  the  ravine  immediately  under  my 
position,  the  nearest  column  must  arrive  un- 
supported. 

The  moment  came.  The  helmets  and 
spears  were  already  pouring  from  the  pass, 
when  a gesture  of  my  hand  let  loose  the 
whole  human  torrent  upon  them.  Our  advan- 
tage of  the  ground,  our  numbers,  and  impetu- 
osity, decided  the  fate  of  this  division  at  once. 
The  legionaries  were  not  merely  repulsed, 
they  were  absolutely  trampled  down ; they 
lay  as  if  a mighty  wall,  or  a fragment  of  the 
mountain,  had  fallen  upon  them. 

The  two  remaining  columns  were  still  to 
be  fought.  Their  solid  front,  the  compact  and 
broad  mass  of  iron  that  rushed  down  the  ravines, 
seemed  irresistible;  arid  when  I cast  a glance 
on.  the  irregular  and  waving  lines  behind  me, 
I felt  the  whole  peril  of  the  day.  Yet  I fear- 
ed idly.  The  enemy  charged,  and  forced 
their  way  into  the  very  centre  of  the  multi- 


tude, like  two  vast  wedges,  crushing  all  be- 
fore them.  But  though  they  could  repel,  they 
could  not  conquer.  The  spirit  of  the  Jew 
fighting  before  Jerusalem  was  more  than 
heroism.  To  extinguish  a Roman,  though 
at  the  instant  loss  of  life ; to  disable  a single 
spear,  though  by  receiving  it  in  his  bosom ; 
to  encumber  with  his  corpse  the  steps  of  the 
adversary,  was  reward  enough  for  the  man 
of  Israel. 

I saw  crowds  of  those  bold  peasants  fling 
themselves  on  the  ground,  to  creep  between 
the  feet  of  the  legionaries,  and  die  stabbing 
them  ; others  casting  away  the  lance  to  seize 
the  Roman  bucklers,  and  encumber  them  with 
the  strong  grasp  of  death  ; crowds  mounted 
the  rising  grounds,  and  leaped  down  on  the 
spears. 

The  enemy  overborne  with  the  weight  of 
the  multitude,  at  length  found  it  impossible  to 
move  farther : yet  their  solid  strength  was 
not  to  be  broken.  Wherever  we  turned,  there 
was  the  same  wall  of  shields,  the  same  thick 
fence  of  levelled  lances.  We  might  as  well 
have  assaulted  a rock.  Our  arrows  rebound- 
ed from  their  impenetrable  armor : the  stones 
that  poured  on  them  from  innumerable  slings, 
rolled  off  like  the  hail  of  a summer  shower 
from  a roof.  But  to  have  stopped  the  columns, 
and  prevented  their  junction,  was  itself  a tri- 
umph. I felt  that  thus  we  had  scarcely  to  do 
more,  than  fix  them  where  they  stood,  and 
leave  the  intense  heat  of  the  day,  thirst,  and 
weariness,  to  fight  our  battle.  But  my  troop9 
were  not  to  be  restrained.  They  still  rolled 
in  furious  heaps  against  the  living  fortification. 
Every  broken  lance  in  that  impenetrable  bar- 
rier, every  pierced  helmet  was  a trophy  ; the 
fall  of  a single  legionary  roused  a shout  of  ex- 
ultation and  was  the  signal  for  a new  charge. 

But  the  battle  was  no  longer  to  be  left  to  our 
unassisted  efforts.  The  troops  in  Jerusalem 
moved  down,  with  Constantius  at  their  head. 
In  the  perpetual  roar  of  the  conflict,  their 
shouts  escaped  my  ear;  and  my  first  intelli- 
gence of  their  advances  was  from  Jubal,  who 
had  well  redeemed  his  pledge  during  the  day. 
Hurrying  with  him  to  one  of  the  eminences 
that  overlooked  the  field,  I saw  with  pride 
and  delight  the  standard  of  Naphtali  spread- 
ing its  red  folds  at  the  head  of  the  advancing 
multitude.  u Who  commands  them  1”  asked 
Jubal  eagerly. 

“ Who  should  command  them,  with  that 
banner  at  their  head,”  replied  I,  “ but  my  son, 
my  brave  Constantius  1” 

He  heard  no  more  ; but,  bending  his  turban 
to  his  saddle  bow,  struck  the  spur  into  his 
horse,  and,  with  a cry  of  madness,  plunged 
into  the  centre  of  the  nearest  column.  The 
stroke  came  upon  it  like  a thunderbolt;  the 
phalanx  wavered  for  the  first  time:  a space 
i was  broken  in  its  ranks.  The  chasm  was  filled 


104 


Salathiel. 


up  by  the  charge  of  my  hunters.  To  save  or 
die  with  Jubal,  was  the  impulse ! That 
charge  was  never  recovered ; the  column 
loosened,  the  multitude  pressed  in  upon  it, 
and  Constantius  arrived  only  in  time  to  see 
the  remnant  of  the  proud  Roman  army  flying 
to  the  disastrous  shelter  of  the  ravine. 

The  day  was  won — I was  a conqueror! 
The  invincible  legions  were  invincible  no 
more.  I had  conquered  under  the  gaze  of 
Jerusalem  ! Where  was  the  enmity  that 
would  dare  to  murmur  against  me  now ! 
What  calumny  would  not  be  crushed  by  the 
force  of  national  gratitude ! A flood  of  ab- 
sorbing sensations  filled  my  soul.  No  elo- 
quence of  man  could  express  the  glowing 
and  superb  consciousness  that  swelled  my 
heart,  in  the  moment  when  I saw  the  Romans 
shake,  and  heard  the  shouts  of  my  army  pro- 
claiming me  victor ! 

After  this  day,  I can  forgive  the  boldest 
extravagance  of  the  boldest  passion  for  war. 
That  passion  is  not  cruelty,  nor  the  thirst  of 
ossession,  nor  the  longing  for  supremacy  ; 
ut  something  made  up  of  them  all,  and  yet 
superior  to  all — the  essential  spirit  of  the 
stirring  motives  of  the  human  mind — the 
fever  of  the  gamester,  kindled  by  the  loftiest 
objects,  and  ennobled  by  them — a game  where 
the  stake  is  an  endless  inheritance  of  renown, 
a sudden  lifting  of  the  man  into  the  rank  of 
those  on  whose  names  time  can  make  no  im- 
pression ; who  let  their  place  on  earth  be 
what  it  may,  are  at  the  head  of  mankind. 
Immortals,  without  undergoing  the  penalty 
of  the  gravel 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

I determined  to  give  the  enemy  no  re- 
spite, and  ordered  the  ravines  to  be  attacked 
by  fresh  troops.  While  they  were  advancing, 
I galloped  in  search  of  Jubal  over  the  ground 
of  the  last  charge.  He  was  not  to  be  seen 
among  the  living  or  the  dead. 

The  look  of  the  field,  when  the  first  glow 
of  battle  passed,  was  enough  to  shake  a stern- 
er spirit  than  mine.  Our  advance  to  the 
gorges  of  the  mountain,  had  left  the  plain 
naked  The  sea  of  turbans  and  lances  was 
gone,  rolling,  like  the  swell  of  an  angry  ocean, 
against  the  foot  of  the  hills.  All  before  us 
was  the  precipitous  rock,  or  the  rocky  pass, 
thronged  with  helmets  and  spears.  But  all 
behind  was  death,  or  misery  worse  than 
death ; hundreds  and  thousands  groaning  in 
agony,  crying  out  for  water  to  cool  their 
burning  lips,  imploring  the  sword  to  put  them 


out  of  pain.  The  legionaries  lay  in  their 
ranks,  as  they  had  fought;  solid  pilesof  men, 
horses,  and  arms,  the  true  monuments  of  sol- 
diership. The  veterans  of  Rome  had  gal- 
lantly sustained  the  honors  of  her  name. 

I turned  from  this  sight  towards  the  res- 
cued city.  The  sun  was  resting  on  its  tow- 
ers ; the  smoke  of  the  evening  sacrifice  were 
ascending  in  slow  wreaths  from  the  altar  of 
the  sanctuary.  The  trumpets  and  voices  of 
the  minstrels  poured  a rich  stream  of  har- 
mony on  the  cool  air.  The  recollection  of 
gentler  times  came  upon  my  heart  Through 
what  scenes  of  anxious  feeling  had  I not  pass- 
ed, since  those  gates  closed  upon  me! 

The  contrast  between  the  holy  calm  of  my 
early  days,  and  the  fierce  struggles  of  my 
doomed  existence,  pressed  with  bitter  force. 
My  spirit  shook.  The  warrior  enthusiasm 
was  chilled.  The  sounds  of  triumph  rang 
hollow  in  my  ear  ; and  those  who  had  at  that 
hour  looked  upon  the  man  of  victory,  the 
champion  of  Israel,  would  have  seen  but  a 
helpless  wretch,  hiding  his  face  from  human 
view;  and  wishing  that  he  could  exchange 
fates  with  the  mangled  shapes  beside  him. 

The  trampling  of  horses  roused  me  from 
this  unwarlike  weakness.  Constantius  came 
glowing  to  communicate  the  intelligene,  that 
the  last  of  the  enemy  had  been  driven  in,  and 
that  his  fresh  troops  only  awaited  my  orders 
to  force  the  passes.  I mounted,  heard  the 
shouts  of  the  brave  pursuers,  and  was  again 
the  soldier. 

But  the  iron  front  of  the  enemy  resisted 
our  boldest  attempts  to  force  the  ravines.  ; 
The  hills  were  not  to  be  turned ; and  we 
were  compelled,  after  innumerable  efforts,  to 
wait  for  the  movement  of  the  Romans  from  a 
spot  which  thirst  and  hunger  must  soon  make 
untenable.  This  day  stripped  them  of  their 
baggage,  beasts  of  burden,  and  military  en- 
gines. Night  fell  too  speedily — to  us  a re- 
luctant relaxation,  to  them  a temporary  shel- 
ter from  inevitable  ruin. 

At  dawn,  the  pursuit  began  again.  We 
found  the  passes  open,  and  the  enemy  strug- 
gling to  escape  out  of  those  fatal  defiles. 
The  day  was  worn  away  in  perpetual  at- 
tempts to  break  the  ranks  of  the  legionaries. 
The  Jew,  light,  agile,  and  with  nothing  to 
carry  but  his  spear,  was  a tremendous  antag- 
onist to  the  Roman,  perplexed  among  rocks 
and  torrents,  famishing,  and  encumbered 
with  an  oppressive  weight  of  armor.  The 
losses  of  this  day  were  dreadful.  Our  darts 
commanded  their  march  from  the  heights; 
every  stone  did  execution  among  ranks, 
whose  helmets  and  shields  were  now  shat- 
tered  by  the  perpetual  discharge.  Still  they 
toiled  on  unbroken.  We  saw  their  long  line 
struggling  with  patientdiscipline  through  the 
' rugged  depth  below ; and  in  the  face  of  our 


Salathiel. 


attacks  they  made  way,  till  night  again  co- 
vered them. 

I spent  that  night  on  horseback.  Fatigue 
was  never  felt  in  the  strong  excitement  of 
the  time.  I saw  multitudes  sink  at  my 
horse’s  feet  in  sleep  as  insensible  as  the  rock 
on  which  they  lay.  Sleep  never  touched  my 
eyelids.  I galloped  from  post  to  post,  brought 
up  reinforcements  to  my  wearied  ranks,  and 
longed  for  morn. 

It  came  at  last ; the  enemy  had  reached 
the  head  of  the  defiles,  but  a force  was 
poured  upon  them  that  nothing  could  resist : 
their  remaining  cavalry  were  driven  from 
the  sides  of  the  precipice  into  the  depths,  the 
few  light  troops  that  scaled  the  higher 
grounds  were  swept  away.  I looked  upon 
their  whole  army  as  in  my  hands,  and  was 
riding  forward  with  Constantius  and  my  chief 
officers  to  receive  their  surrender;  when 
they  were  saved  by  one  of  those  instances  of 
devotedness,  that  distinguished  the  Roman 
character. 

Wearied  of  perpetual  pursuit  and  evasion, 
I was  rejoiced  to  see,  at  last,  symptoms  of  a 
determination  to  wait  for  us,  and  try  the 
chance  of  battle.  An  abrupt  ridge  of  rock, 
surmounted  with  a lofty  cone,  was  the  ene- 
my’s position,  long  after  famous  in  Jewish 
annals.  A line  of  spearsmen  were  drawn 
up  on  the  ridge;  and  the  broken  summit  of 
the  cone,  a space  of  a few  hundred  yards, 
was  occupied  by  a cohort.  Some  of  the 
Italian  dexterity  was  employed  to  give  the 
idea,  that  Cestius  had  taken  his  stand  upon 
this  central  spot ; an  eagle,  and  a concourse 
of  officers,  were  exhibited  ; and  upon  this 
spot  I directed  the  principal  attack  to  be 
made. 

But  the  cool  bravery  of  its  defenders  was 
not  to  be  shaken.  After  a long  waste  of  time 
in  efforts  to  scale  the  rock ; indignant  at  see- 
ing victory  retarded  by  such  an  obstacle,  I 
left  the  business  to  the  slingers  and  archers; 
and  ordered  a perpetual  discharge  to  be  kept 
up  on  the  cohort.  This  was  decisive.  Every 
stone  and  arrow  told  upon  the  little  force 
crowded  together  on  the  naked  height. 
Shield  and  helmet  sank  one  by  one  under  the 
mere  weight  of  missiles.  Their  circle  rapid- 
ly diminished,  and,  refusing  to  surrender,  they 
perished  to  a man. 

When  we  took  possession,  the  enemy  were 
gone.  The  resistance  of  the  cohort  had 
given  them  time  to  escape.  And  Cestius 
sheltered  his  degraded  laurels  behind  the 
ramparts  of  Bethhoron,  by  the  sacrifice  of 
four  hundred  heroes. 

This  battle,  which  commenced  on  the 
eighth  day  of  the  month  Marchesvan,  had  no 
equal  in  the  war.  The  loss  to  the  Romans 
was  unparalleled  since  the  defeat  ofCrassus. 
Two  legions  were  destroyed;  six  thousand 


bodies  were  left  on  the  field.  The  whole 
preparation  for  the  siege  of  Jerusalem  fell 
into  our  hands.  Then  was  the  hour  to  have 
struck  the  final  blow  for  freedom.  Then  was 
given  that  chance  of  restoration,  that  respite, 
which  Providence  gives  to  every  nation  and 
every  man.  But  our  crimes,  our  wild  feuds, 
the  bigoted  fury,  and  polluted  license  of  our 
factions,  rose  up  as  a cloud  between  us  and 
the  light;  we  were  made  to  be  ruined. 

But  those  were  not  my  reflections  when 
I saw  the  gates  of  Bethhoron  closing  on  the 
fugitives ; I vowed  never  to  rest,  until  I 
brought  prisoners  to  Jerusalem,  the  last  of 
the  sacrilegious  army  that  had  dared  to  as- 
sault the  Temple. 

The  walls  of  Bethhoron,  manned  only  with 
the  wreck  of  the  troops  that  we  had  routed 
from  all  their  positions,  could  offer  no  impedi- 
ment to  hands  and  hearts  like  ours.  I or- 
dered an  immediate  assault.  The  resistance 
was  desperate,  for  beyond  this  city  there  was 
no  place  of  refuge  nearer  than  Antipafris. 
We  were  twice  repulsed.  I headed  the  third 
attack  myself.  The  dead  filled  up  the  ditch, 
and  I had  already  arrived  at  the  foot  of  the 
rampart,  with  the  scaling  ladder  in  mv  hand, 
when  I heard  Jubal’s  voice  behind  me.  lie 
uras  leaping  and  dancing  in  the  attitudes  of 
utter  madness.  But  there  was  no  fme  to 
be  lost.  I rushed  upon  the  battlemenls,  tore 
a standard  from  its  bearer,  and  waved  it  o\cr 
my  head  with  a shoutof  victory.  Tne  plain, 
the  hills,  the  valleys,  covered  with  the  best 
rushing  to  the  assault,  echoed  the  cry ; I was 
at  the  summit  of  fortune  ! 

In  the  next  moment  I felt  a sudden  shock. 
Darkness  covered  my  eyes,  and  I plunged 
headlong. 

I awoke  in  a dungeon. 

In  that  dungeon  I lay  two  years.  How  I 
lived,  how  I bore  to  retain  existence,  I can 
now  have  no  conception.  I was  for  the 
greater  part  of  the  time  in  a kind  of  ch  'd  sh- 
ness.  I was  not  mad,  nor  altogether  insen- 
sible of  things  about  me,  nor  even  without 
the  occasional  inclination  for  the  common  ob- 
jects and  propensities  of  our  being.  1 u ed 
to  look  for  the  glimmer  of  day-light,  that  \\  as 
suffered  to  enter  my  cell.  The  n flection  of 
the  moon  in  a pool,  of  which,  by  climbing  to 
the  loop-hole,  I could  gain  a glimpse,  was 
waited  for  with  some  feeble  feeling  of  plea- 
sure. But  my  animal  appetites  were  more 
fully  alive  than  ever.  An  hour’s  delay  of 
the  miserable  provision  that  was  thrown 
through  my  bars,  made  me  wretched.  I de- 
voured it  like  a wild  beast,  and  then  longed 
through  the  dreary  hours  for  its  coming  again. 

I made  no  attempt  to  escape.  1 dragged 
myself  once  to  the  entrance  of  the  dungeon, 
found  it  secured  by  an  iron  door,  and  never 


Salathiet. 


tried  it  again.  If  every  bar  had  been  open, 
I scarcely  know,  whether  I should  have  at- 
tempted to  pass  it.  Even  in  my  more  reason- 
ing hours,  l felt  no  desire  to  move;  Destiny 
was  upon  me.  My  doom  was  marked  in 
characters,  which  nothing  but  blindness  could 
fail  to  read;  and  to  struggle  with  fate,  what 
was  it  but  to  prepare  for  new  misfortune! 

The  memory  of  my  wife  and  children  some- 
times broke  through  the  icy  apathy  with 
which  I labored  to  incrust  my  mind.  Tears 
flowed,  nature  stung  my  heart,  I groaned, 
and  made  the  vault  ring  with  the  cries  of 
the  exile  from  earth  and  heaven.  But  this 
passed  away,  and  I was  again  the  self-di- 
vorced man,  without  a tie  to  bind  him  to  tran- 
sitory things. 

I heard  the  thunder,  and  the  winds ; the 
lightnings  sometimes  startled  me  from  my 
savage  sleep.  But  what  were  they  to  me ! 
I was  dreadfully  secure  from  the  fiercest  rage 
of  nature.  There  were  nights  when  I 
conceived  that  I could  distinguish  the  roar- 
ings of  the  ocean,  and,  shuddering,  seemed 
to  hear  the  cries  of  drowning  men.  But 
those  too  passed  away.  I swept  remembrance 
from  my  mind,  and  felt  a sort  of  vague  en- 
joyment in  the  effort  to  defy  the  last  power 
of  evil.  Cold,  heat,  hunger,  waking,  sleep,- 
were  the  calendar  of  my  year,  the  only  points 
in  which  I was  sensible  of  existence  ; I felt 
myself  like  some  of  those  torpid  animals 
which,  buried  in  stones  from  the  creation, 
live  on  until  the  creation  shall  be  no  more. 

But  this  stern  heaviness  was  only  for  the 
waking  hour.  Night  had  its  old  implacable 
dominion  over  me,  full  of  vivid  misery, 
crowded  with  the  bitter  sweet  of  memory. 
I wandered  free  among  those,  in  whose  faces 
and  forms  my  spirit  found  matchless  loveli- 
ness; then  the  cruel  caprice  of  fancy  would 
sting  me;  in  the  very  concord  of  enchanting 
sounds,  there  would  come  a funereal  voice. 
In  the  circle  of  the  happy,  I was  appalled  by 
some  hideous  visage  uttering  words  of  mise- 
ry. A.  spectral  form  would  hang  upon  my 
steps,  and  tell  me  that  I was  undone. 

From  one  of  those  miserable  slumbers  I 
was  roused  by  a voice  pronouncing  my  name. 
I at  first  confounded  it  with  the  wanderings 
of  sleep.  But  a chilling  touch  upon  my  fore- 
head, completely  aroused  me.  It  was  night, 
yet  my  eyes,  accustomed  to  the  darkness, 
gradually  discovered  the  first  intruder  who 
ever  stood  within  my  living  grave;  nothing 
human  could  look  more  like  the  dead.  A 
breathing  skeieton  stood  before  me.  The 
skin  clung  to  his  bones,  misery  was  in  every 
feature,  the  voice  was  scarcely  above  a whis- 
per. 

“ Rise,”  said  this  wretched  being,  “prince 
of  Naphtali,  you  are  free;  follow  roe.” 

Strange  thoughts  were  in  the  words.  Was 


(this  indeed  the  universal  summoner?  the 
being  whom  the  prosperous  dread,  but  the 
wretched  love?  Had  the  King  of  terrors 
stood  before  me,  I could  not  have  gazed  on 
him  with  more  wonder.  “Rise,”  said  the 
voice  impatiently;  “we  have  but' an  hour 
till  day-break,  and  you  must  escape  now,  or 
never.”  The  sound  of  freedom  scattered  my 
apathy.  The  world  opened  upon  my  heart ; 
country,  friends,  children,  were  in  the  word, 
and  I started  up  with  the  feeling  of  one,  to 
whom  life  is  given  on  the  scaffold. 

My  guide  hurried  forward  through  the 
winding  way  to  the  door.  He  stopped,  I 
heard  him  utter  a groan,  strike  fiercely 
against  the  bars,  and  fall.  . I found  him  lying 
at  the  threshhold  without  speech  or  motion; 
carried  him  back;  and  by  the  help  of  the 
cruse  of  water  left  to  moisten  my  solitary 
meal,  restored  him  to  his  senses. 

“ The  wind,”  said  he  “ must  have  closed 
the  door,  and  we  are  destined  to  die  toge- 
ther. So  be  it ; with  neither  of  us  can  the 
stuggle  be  long.  Farewell!”  He  flung  him-  i 
self  upon  his  face  in  a corner,  and  seemed  to  : 
sleep.  A noise  of  some  heavy  instrument  ; 
roused  us  both.  He  listened,  and  said, 
“There  is  hope  still.  The  slave  who  let  me 
in,  is  forcing  the  door.”  We  rushed  to  assist 
him ; and  tugged  and  tore  at  the  massive 
stones  in  which  the  hinges  were  fixed ; but 
found  our  utmost  strength  ineffectual  as  an 
infant’s.  The  slave  now  cried  out,  that  he 
must  give  up  the  attempt;  that  day  was 
breaking,  and  the  guard  were  at  hand.  We 
implored  him  to  try  once  more.  By  a vio-  ; 
lent  effort,  he  drove  his  crow-bar  through  one 
of  the  pannels,  the  gleam  of  light  gave  us 
courage,  and  with  our  united  strength  we 
heaved  at  the  joints,  which  were  evidently 
loosening. 

In  the  midst  of  our  work,  the  slave  fled  ; 
and  I heard  a plunge  into  the  pool  beneath. 

“ He  has  perished,”  said  my  companion. 

“ The  door  is  on  the  face  of  a precipice.  He 
has  fallen  in  the  attempt  to  escape,  and  we 
are  now  finally  undone.” 

The  guard,  disturbed  by  the  noise,  arrived, 
and  in  the  depths  of  our  cell  we  heard  the  i 
day  spent  in  making  the  impassable  barrier  i 
firmer  than  ever. 

For  some  hours  my  companion  lay  in  that 
state  of  exhaustion,  which  I could  not  dis- 
tinguish from  uneasy  slumber,  and  which  I 
attributed  to  the  fatigue  of  our  mutual  labors. 
But  his  groans  became  so  deep,  that  I ven- 
tured to  rouse  him,  and  even  to  cheer  him 
with  the  chances  of  escape. 

“ I have  not  slept,”  said  he ; “I  shall  never 
sleep  again,  until  the  grave  gives  me  that 
slumber  in  which  the  wretched  can  alone 
find  rest.  Escape ! No — for  months,  for 
years,  I have  had  but  one  object ; I have  tra- 


4 


106 


Salathiel. 


versed  mountain  and  sea  for  it,  I have  given 
to  it  day  and  night,  all  the  wealth  that  I 
possessed  in  the  world ; I could  give  no  more, 
but  my  life;  and  that  too  I was  to  give.  I 
stood  within  sight  of  this  object.  Its  attain- 
ment would  have  comforted  my  dying  hour. 
But  it  is  snatched  from  me  in  the  very  mal- 
ice of  fortune ; and  now  the  sooner  I perish 
the  better.”  He  writhed  with  mental 
pain. 

“ But  what  cause  can  you  have  for  being 
here  ! You  are  no  prisoner.  You  have  not 
fought  our  tyrants.  Who  are  you  1” 

“One  whom  you  can  never  know.  A 
being  born  to  honor  and  happiness ; but  who 
perverted  them  by  pride  and  revenge,  and 
whose  last  miserable  hope  is,  that  he  may 
die  unknown,  and  without  the  curses  that 
fall  on  the  traitor  and  the  murderer.” 

1 knew  the  speaker  in  those  words  of  woe. 
I cried  out,  “ Jubal,  my  friend,  my  kinsman, 
my  hero;  is  it  youthen  who  have  risked  your 
life  to  save  me  V’  I threw  myself  beside 
him.  He  crept  from  me.  I caught  his  mea- 
gre hand.  I forced  food  into  his  lips;  in  the 
deepest  grief  at  his  obvious  suffering,  I ad- 
jured him  to  live  and  hope. 

He  started  away  wildly.  “ Touch  me  not, 
Prince  of  Naphtali,  I am  unfit  to  live.  I — I 
have  been  your  ruin  ; and  yet  he  who  knows 
the  heart,  knows  that  I alone  am  not  to 
blame.  I was  a dupe,  a slave  to  furious 
passions,  the  victim  of  evil  counsellors,  the 
prey  of  disease  of  mind.  What  I did,  was 
done  in  malice,  but  it  was  done  in  madness 
too.  On  my  crimes  may  Heaven  have 
jnercy  ! for  they  are  beyond  the  forgiveness 
of  man.” 

By  the  feeble  light  which  showed  scarcely 
more  than  the  wretchedness  of  my  dungeon, 
I made  some  little  preparations  for  the  re- 
freshment of  this  feverish  and  famished 
being.  His  story  agitated  him  ; and,  strong- 
ly awakened  as  my  curiosity  was,  I forbore 
all  question.  But  it  lay  a burden  on  his 
mind,  and  I suffered  him  to  make  his  con- 
fession. 

“ I loved  Salome,”  said  he.  “ But  I was 
so  secure  of  acceptance,  according  to  the 
custom  of  our  tribe,  that  I never  conceived 
the  possibility  of  an  obstacle  to  our  marriage. 
My  love  and  my  pride  were  equally  hurt  by 
her  rejection.  The  return  of  Salome  from 
Rome,  and  the  new  distinctions  of  her  hus- 
band, your  gratitude,  and  the  popular  ap- 
plause, made  my  envy  bitterness.  To  change 
the  scene,  I went  to  Jerusalem.  I there 
found  the  spirit  of  malice  active.  Your 
learning  and  talents  had  made  you  obnoxious 
long  before ; your  new  opulence  and  rank 
turned  dislike  into  hatred.  Onias,  whose 
dagger  you  turned  from  the  bosom  of  the 
noble  Eleazar,  remembered  his  disgrace. 


He  headed  the  conspiracy  against  you  ; and 
nothing  but  your  heroism,  and  the  daring 
vigor  which  you  stirred  up  the  nation,  could 
have  saved  you  long  since  from  the  last  ex- 
tremities of  faction  and  revenge.  My  un- 
happy state  of  mind  threw  me  into  his  hands. 
I was  inflamed  against  you  by  perpetual  cal- 
umnies. My  feelings,  morbid  with  fancied 
wrongs,  hurried  me  into  violences  of  lan- 
guage and  wild  resolutions,  that  now  strike 
me  with  wonder.  It  was  even  proposed  that 
I should  accuse  you  before  the  Sanhedrim  of 
dealing  with  the  powers  of  darkness.  Proofs 
were  offered,  which  my  bewildered  and 
broken  reason  could  scarcely  resist.  I was 
assailed  with  subtle  argument;  the  latent 
superstitions  of  my  nature  were  stimulated 
by  sights  and  scenes  of  strange  import,  hor- 
rid and  mysterious  displays,  which  implicate 
the  leaders  of  Jerusalem  deeply  in  the 
charges  laid  by  our  law  upon  the  idolaters. 
Spirits,  or  the  semblances  of  spirits,  were 
raised  before  my  eyes,  voices  were  heard  in 
the  depths  and  in  the  air,  denouncing  you, 
even  you,  as  the  enemy  of  Judea  and  of  man. 
I was  commanded,  in  the  midst  of  thunders, 
real  or  feigned,  to  destroy  you.” 

Here  his  voice  sank,  his  frame  quivered; 
and  wrapping  his  head  in  his  cloak,  he  re- 
mained long  silent.  To  relieve  him  from 
this  painful  narrative,  I asked  for  intelligence 
of  my  family  and  of  the  country. 

“ Of  your  family  I can  tell  you  nothing,” 
said  he,  mournfully;  “I  shrank  from  the 
very  mention  of  their  name.  During  these 
two  years,  I had  but  one  pursuit,  the  discovery 
of  your  prison.  I refused  to  hear,  to  think 
of  other  things.  1 felt  that  1 was  dying,  and 
I dreaded  to  appear  before  the  great  tribunal 
with  the  groans  from  your  dungeon  rising  up 
to  stifle  my  prayers.” 

“ But  is  our  country  still  torn  by  the  Ro- 
man wolves  1” 

“ Its  destruction  forced  itself  on  my  eyes. 
The  whole  land  is  in  tumult.  Blood  and 
horror  are  under  every  roof  from  Lebanon  to 
Idumea.  The  Roman  sword  is  out,  and  it 
falls  with  cruel  havoc;  but  the  Jewish  dag- 
ger pays  it  home,  and  the  legions  quail  be- 
fore the  naked  valor  of  the  peasantry.  But 
what  are  valor  or  patriotism  to  us  now"!  we 
are  in  our  grave  !” 

The  thought  of  my  family,  exposed  to  the 
miseries  of  a ferocious  war,  only  kindled  my 
eagerness  to  escape  from  this  den  of  oblivion. 
I rose,  it  was  evening,  and  the  melancholy 
moon  threw  the  old  feeble  gleam  on  the 
water,  which  had  so  long  been  to  me  the 
only  mirror  of  her  countenance.  I observed 
the  light  darkened  by  a figure  stealing  along 
the  edge  of  the  pool.  It  approached,  and 
the  words  were  whispered:  “It  is  impossi- 
ble to  break  open  the  door  from  without,  as 


Salathiel. 


107 


the  guard  are  on  the  watch ; but  try  whether 
it  cannot  be  opened  from  within.”  A crow- 
bar was  pushed  into  the  loop-hole  ; its  bearer, 
the  slave,  who  had  escaped  by  swimming, 
jumped  down  and  was  gone. 

I left  Jubal  where  he  lay,  lingered  at  the 
door  till  all  external  sounds  ceased,  and  then 
made  my  desperate  attempt.  I was  wasted 
by  confinement ; but  the  mind  is  force.  I 
labored  with  furious  effort  at  the  mass  of 
bolt  and  bar,  and  at  length  felt  it  begin  to 
give  way.  I saw  a star,  the  first  for  two 
long  years,  twinkling  through  the  fracture. 
A quarter  of  an  hour’s  labor  more  unfixed 
the  huge  hinge,  and  I felt  the  night  air  cool 
and  fragrant  on  my  cheek.  I now  grasped 
the  last  bar,  and  was  in  the  act  of  forcing 
it  from  the  wall,  when  the  thought  of  Jubal 
struck  me.  There  was  a struggle  of  a mo- 
ment in  my  mind.  To  linger  now,  might 
be  to  give  the  guard  time  to  intercept  me.' 
I was  ravening  for  liberty.  It  was  to  me 
now,  what  water  in  the  desert  is  to  the  dying 
caravan.  It  was  the  sole  assuaging  of  a 
frantic  thirst,  of  a fiery  and  consuming  fever 
of  the  soul.  If  every  grain  of  dust  under 
my  feet  were  diamonds,  1 would  have 
given  them  to  feel  myself  treading  the  dewy 
grass  that  lay  waving  on  the  hill-side  before 
me. 

A tall  shadow  passed  along,  and  compelled 
me  to  pause.  It  was  that  of  a mountain 
shepherd,  spear  in  hand,  guarding  his  flock 
from  the  depredations  of  the  wolves.  He 
stopped  at  a short  distance  from  the  dun- 
geon, and  gazing  on  the  moon,  broke  out 
with  a rude  but  not  unsweet  voice  into  song. 
The  melody  was  wild,  a lamentation  over 
the  fallen  glories  of  Judea  ; “ whose  sun  was 
set,  and  whose  remaining  light,  sad  and  holy 
as  the  beauty  of  the  moon,  must  soon  de- 
cay.” The  word  freedom  mingled  in  the 
strain,  and  every  note  of  that  solemn  strain 
vibrated  to  my  heart.  The  shepherd  passed 
along. 

I tore  down  the  bar,  and  gazed  upon  the 
glorious  face  of  heaven.  My  feet  were  upon 
the  free  ground.  I returned  hastily  to  the 
cell,  and  told  Jubal  the  glad  tidings;  but  he 
heard  me  not.  To  abandon  him  there  was 
to  give  him  up  to  inevitable  death,  either  by 
the  rage  of  the  guard,  or  by  the  less  merci- 
ful infliction  of  famine.  I carried  him  on  my 
shoulders  to  the  entrance. 

A roar  of  wrath,  mixed  with  ridicule,  broke 
on  me  as  I touched  the  threshold.  The 
guard  stood  drawn  up  in  front  of  the  dilapi- 
dated door;  and  the  sight  of  the  prisoner,  en- 
trapped in  the  very  cnsis  of  escape,  was  the 
true  food  for  ruffian  mirth.  Staggering 
under  my  burden,  I yet  burst  forward,  but  I 
was  received  in  a circle  of  leveled  spears. 
Resistance  was  desperate ; yet,  even  when 
8 


sunk  upon  the  ground  under  my  burden,  I 
attempted  to  resist,  or  gather  their  points 
into  my  bosom  and  perish.  But  my  feeble 
efforts  only  raised  new  scoffing.  I was  un- 
worthy of  Roman  steel;  and  the  guard,  after 
amusing  themselves  with  my  impotent  rage, 
dragged  me  within  the  passage,  placed  Jubal, 
who  neither  spoke  nor  moved,  beside  me, 
blocked  up  the  door,  and  wished  me  “ better 
success  the  next  time.” 

I spent  the  remainder  of  that  night  in 
fierce  agitation.  The  apathy,  the  protecting 
scorn  of  external  things  that  I had  nurtured, 
as  other  men  would  nurture  happiness,  was 
gone.  The  glimpse  of  the  sky  haunted  me; 
a hundred  times  in  the  course  of  the  night  I 
thought  that  I was  treading  on  the  grass; 
that  I felt  its  refreshing  moisture  ; that  the 
air  was  breathing  balm  on  my  cheek ; that 
the  shepherd’s  song  was  still  echoing  in  my 
ears,  and  that  I saw  him  pointing  to  a new 
way  of  escape  from  my  inextricable  dungeon. 
In  one  of  my  ramblings  I fell  over  Jubal. 
Exasperated  at  the  stern  reality  round  me,  I 
flung  the  crow-bar  from  my  hand.  A sound 
followed,  like  the  fall  of  large  stones  into 
the  water.  The  sound  continued.  Still 
stranger  echoes  followed,  which  my  bewil- 
dered fancy  turned  into  all  similitudes  of 
earth  and  ocean  ; the  march  of  troops,  the 
distant  roar  of  thunder,  the  dashing  of  bil- 
lows, the  clamor  of  battle,  the  boisterous 
mirth  of  Bacchanalians;  the  groaning 
and  heaving  of  masts  and  rigging  tossed  by 
storm. 

The  dungeon  was  dark  as  death,  and  I felt 
my  way  towards  the  sound.  To  my  surprise, 
the  accidental  blow  of  the  bar  had  loosened 
a part  of  the  wall ; and  made  an  orifice  large 
enough  to  admit  the  human  body.  The  pale 
light  of  morning  showed  a cavern  beyond, 
narrow  and  rugged  ; but  into  which  I was  re- 
solved to  penetrate.  It  branched  into  a va- 
riety of  passages,  some  of  them  fit  for  nothing 
but  the  fox’s  burrow.  Two  were  wider.  1 
returned  to  the  lair  of  my  unhappy  compan- 
ion, and  prevailed  on  him  to  follow,  only  by 
the  declaration,  that,  if  he  refused,  I must 
perish  by  his  side.  My  scanty  provisions 
were  gathered  up.  I led  the  way  ; and,  de- 
termined never  to  return  to  the  place  of  my 
misery,  we  set  forward,  to  tempt  in  utter 
darkness  the  last  chances  of  famine — pilgrims 
of  the  tomb. 

We  wandered  through  a fearful  labyrinth 
for  a period  which  utterly  exhausted  us.  Of 
! night  or  day  we  had  no  knowledge;  but  hun- 
1 ger  keenly  told  us  that  it  was  long.  I was 
sinking;  when  a low  groan  struck  my  ear.  I 
listened  parrtingly:  it  came  again.  It  was 
evidently  from  some  object  close  beside  me. 
I put  forth  my  hand,  and  pulled  away  a pro- 
jecting stone:  a flash  of  light  illumined  the 


108 


Salathiel. 


passage.  Another  step  would  have  plunged 
us  into  a pool  a thousand  feet  below. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

The  cavern  thus  opened  to  us  was  large, 
and  seemed  to  be  the  magazine  of  some  place 
of  trade.  It  was  crowded  with  chests  and 
bales  heaped  together  in  disorder.  But  life 
and  liberty  were  before  us.  I cheered  Jubal, 
till  his  scattered  senses  returned,  and  he 
clasped  my  feet  in  humiliation  and  gratitude. 

We  were  like  men  created  anew.  Sudden 
strength  nerved  our  limbs:  we  forced  our 
way  through  piles,  that  but  an  hour  before 
would  have  been  mountains  to  our  despairing 
strength.  After  long  labor  we  worked  our 
passage  to  a door.  It  opened  into  another 
cavern,  palpably  the  dwelling  of  some  master 
of  extraordinary  opulence.  Rich  tissues  were 
hung  on  the  walls  ; the  ceiling  was  a Tyrian 
canopy  ; precious  vases  stood  on  tables  of  cit- 
ron and  ivory.  A large  lyre  superbly  orna- 
mented hung  in  an  opening  of  the  rock,  and 
gave  its  melancholy  music  to  the  wind.  But 
no  human  being  was  to  be  seen.  Was  this 
one  of  the  true  wonders  that  men  classed 
among  the  fictions  of  Greece  and  Asia!  The 
Nereids  with  their  queen  could  not  have 
sought  a more  secluded  palace.  Still  onward 
were  heard  the  sounds  of  ocean.  We  follow- 
ed them,  and  saw  one  of  those  scenes  of  gran- 
deur which  nature  creates,  as  if  to  show  the 
littleness  of  man. 

An  arch,  three  times  the  height  of  the  lof- 
tiest temple,  and  ribbed  with  marble,  rose 
broadly  over  our  heads.  Innumerable  shafts 
of  the  purest  alabaster,  rounded  with  the  per- 
fection of  sculpture,  rose  in  groups  and  clus- 
ters to  the  solemn  roof:  wild’flowers  and 
climbing  plants  of  every  scent  and  hue  ga- 
thered round  the  capitals,  and  hung  the  gi- 
gantic sides  of  the  hall  with  a lovelier  deco- 
ration than  ever  was  wrought  in  loom.  The 
awful  beauty  of  this  ocean-temple  bowed  the 
heart  in  instinctive  homage.  I felt  the  sa- 
credness of  nature. 

But  this  grandeur  was  alone  worthy  of  the 
spectacle  to  which  it  opened.  The  whole 
magnificence  of  the  Mediterranean  spread 
before  our  eyes,  smooth  as  polished  silver, 
and  now  reflecting  the  glories  of  the  west. 
The  sun  lay  on  the  horizon  in  the  midst  of 
crimson  clouds,  like  a monarch  on  the  fune- 
ral pile,  sinking  in  conflagration  that  lighted 
earth  and  ocean. 

But  at  this  noble  portal  we  had  reached 
our  limit.  The  sides  of  the  cavern  projected 
so  far  into  the  waters  as  to  make  a small  an- 
chorage. Access  or  escape  by  land  was  pal- 
pably impossible.  Yet  here  at  least  we  were 


masters.  No  claimant  presented  himself  to 
dispute  our  title.  The  provisions  of  our  un- 
known host  were  ample,  and,  to  our  eager 
tastes,  dangerous,  from  their  luxury.  The 
evening  that  we  passed  over  our  repast  at 
the  entrance  of  the  cave,  exhilarated  with 
the  first  sensations  of  liberty,  and  enjoying 
every  aspect  and  voice  of  the  lovely  scene 
with  the  keenness  of  the  most  unhoped-for 
novelty,  was  a full  recompense  for  the  toils 
and  terrors  of  the  labyrinth. 

All  before  us  was  peace. — The  surge  that 
died  at  our  feet  murmured  peace ; the  wheel- 
ing sea-birds,  as  their  long  trains  steered 
homeward,  pouring  out  from  time  to  time  a 
clangor  of  wild  sounds  that  descended  to  us 
in  harmony;  the  little  white-sailed  vessels, 
that  skimmed  along  the  distant  waters  like 
flies;  the  breeze  waving  the  ivy  and  arbutus 
that  festooned  our  banquet-hall ; alike  spoke 
to  the  heart  the  language  of  peace, 
j “ If,”  said  I,  “ my  death-bed  were  left  to 
my  own  choice,  on  the  verge  of  this  cavern 
would  1 wish  to  take  my  last  farewell.” 

“ To  the  dying  all  places  must  be  indiffer- 
ent,” replied  my  companion  : “When  Death 
is  at  hand,  his  shadow  fills  the  mind.  What 
matters  it  to  the  exile,  who  in  a few  moments 
must  leave  his  country  forever,  on  what  spot 
of  its  shore  his  last  step  is  planted!  Perhaps 
the  lovelier  that  spot,  the  more  painful  the 
parting.  If  I must  have  my  choice,  let  me 
die  in  the  dungeon,  or  in  battle;  in  the  chain 
that  makes  me  hate  the  earth,  or  in  the  strug- 
gle that  makes  it  be  forgotten.” 

“ Yet,  even  for  battle,  if  we  would  acquit 
ourselves  as  becomes  men,  is  not  some  pre- 
vious rest  almost  essential  1 and  for  the  sterner 
conflict  with  that  mighty  enemy,  before 
whom  our  strength  is  vapor,  is  it  not  well  to 
prepare  with  the  whole  means  of  mental  for- 
titude? I would  not  perish  in  the  irritation 
of  the  dungeon ; in  the  blind  fury  of  man 
against  man  ; nor  in  the  hot  and  giddy  whirl 
of  human  cares.  Let  me  lay  my  sinking 
frame  where  nothing  shall  intrude  upon  the 
nobler  business  of  the  mind.  But  these  are 
melancholy  thoughts.  Come,  Jubal,  fill  to 
the  speedy  deliverance  of  our  country.” 

“ Here,  then,  to  her  speedy  deliverance, 
and  the  glory  of  those  who  fight  her  battles  !” 
The  cup  was  filled  to  the  brim ; but  just  as 
the  wine  touched  his  lips  he  flung  it  away. 
“ No,”  exclaimed  he,  in  bitterness  of  soul, 
“ it  is  not  for  such  as  I to  join  in  the  aspira- 
tions of  the  patriot  and  the  soldier.  Prince 
of  Naphtali,  your  generous  nature  has  for- 
given me  ; but  there  is  an  accuser  here,”  and 
he  struck  his  withered  hand  wildly  upon  his 
bosom,  “ that  can  never  be  silenced.  Under 
the  delusions,  the  infernal  delusions  of  your 
enemies,  I followed  you  through  along  period 
of  your  career  unseen.  Every  act,  almost 


Salathiel. 


109 


every  thought,  was  made  known  to  me ; for 
you  were  surrounded  by  the  agents  of  your 
enemies.  I was  urged  by  the  belief  that  you 
were  utterly  accursed  by  our  law,  and  that 
to  drive  the  dagger  to  your  heart  was  to  re- 
deem our  cause.  But  the  act  was  against 
my  nature,  and  in  the  struggle  my  reason 
failed.  When  I stood  before  you  on  the 
morning’of  the  great  battle,  you  saw  me  in 
one  of  those  fits  of  frenzy  that  always  follow- 
ed a new  command  to  murder.  The  misery 
of  seeing  Salome’s  husband  once  more  trium- 
phant finally  plunged  me  into  the  Roman 
ranks  to  seek  for  death.  I escaped,  followed 
the  army,  and  reached  Bethoron  in  the 
midst  of  the  assault.  Still  frantic,  I thought 
that  in  you  I saw  my  rival  victorious,  and 
sprang  upon  the  wall.  It  was  this  hand,  this 
parricidal  hand,  that  struck  the  blow — .” 
He  covered  his  face  and  sighed  convul- 
sively. 

The  mystery  of  my  captivity  was  now 
cleared  up,  and  feeling  only  pity  and  for- 
giveness for  the  ruin  that  remorse  had  made, 
I succeeded  at  last  in  restoring  him  to  some 
degree  of  calmness.  I even  ventured  to 
cheer  him  with  the  hope  of  better  days, 
when  in  the  palace  of  my  fathers  I should 
acknowledge  my  deliverer.  With  a pres- 
sure of  the  hand,  and  a melancholy  smile, 
“ I know,”  said  he,  “ that  I have  not  long  to 
live.  But  if  any  prayer  of  mine  is  to  be  an- 
swered by  the  Power  that  I have  so  deeply 
offended,  it  would  be  to  die  in  some  act  of 
service  to  my  prince  and  generous  bene- 
factor. But  hark  !” 

A groan  was  uttered  close  to  the  spot 
where  we  sat.  I perceived  for  the  first  time 
an  opening  behind  some  furniture;  entered, 
and  saw  lying  on  a bed  a man  apparently  in 
the  last  state  of  exhaustion.  He  exclaimed, 
“ Three  days  of  misery — three  days  left 
alone,  to  die; — without  food,  without  help, 
abandoned  by  all.  But  I have  deserved  it. 
Traitor  and  villain  as  I am,  I have  deserved 
a thousand  deaths !” 

I looked  upon  this  as  but  the  raving  of 
pain,  and  brought  him  some  wine.  He 
swallowed  it  with  fierce  avidity;  but  even 
while  I held  the  cup  to  his  lips,  he  sank  back 
with  a cry  of  horror.  “ Aye,”  cried  he,  “I 
knew  that  I could  not  escape  you ; you  are 
come  at  last.  Spirit,  leave  me  to  die.  Or 
if,”  said  he,  half  rising,  and  looking  in  my 
face  with  a steady  yet  dim  glare,  “you  can 
tell  the  secrets  of  the  grave,  tell  me  what  is 
my  fate.  I adjure  you,  fearful  being,  by 
the  God  of  Israel : by  the  god  of  the  Pagan ; 
or  if  you  acknowledge  any  god  beyond  the 
last  hour  of  miserable  man,  tell  me  what  I 
am  to  be.” 

I continued  silent,  and  struck  with  the 
agony  of  his  features.  Jubal  entered,  and 


the  looks  of  the  dying  man  were  turned  on 
him. 

“ More  of  them  !”  he  exclaimed,  “ more 
tormentors!  more  terrible  witnesses  of  the 
tortures  of  a wretch  whom  earth  casts  out ! 
What  I demand  of  you  is  the  fate  of  those 
who  lived  as  I have  lived — the  betrayer,  the 
plunderer,  the  man  of  blood  1 But  you  will 
give  me  no  answer.  The  time  for  your 
power  is  not  come.”  He  lay  for  a short 

period  in  mental  sufferings : then,  starting 
upon  his  feet  by  an  extraordinary  effort  of 
nature,  and  with  furious  execrations  at  the 
tardiness  of  death,  he  tore  off  the  bandage 
which  covered  a wound  on  his  forehead. 
The  blood  streamed  down,  and  made  him  a 
ghastly  spectacle.  “ Aye,”  cried  he,  as  he 
looked  upon  his  stained  hands,  “ this  is  the 
true  color ; the  traitor’s  blood  should  cover 
the  traitor’s  hands.  Years  of  crime,  this  is 
your  reward.  The  betrayal  of  my  noble 
master  to  death,  the  ruin  of  his  house, 
the  destruction  of  his  name;  these  were 
the  right  beginning  to  the  life  of  the 
robber.” 

A peal  of  thunder  rolled  over  our  heads, 
and  the  gush  of  the  rising  waves  roared 
through  the  cavern. 

“Aye,  there  is  your  army,”  he  cried, 
“coming  in  the  storm.  I have  seen  your 
angry  visages  at  night  in  the  burning  vil- 
lage ; I have  seen  you  in  the  shipwreck  ; I 
have  seen  you  in  the  howling  wilderness ; 
but  now  I see  you  in  shapes  more  terrible 
than  all.” 

The  wind,  bursting  through  the  lorig 
vaults,  forced  open  the  door.  “Welcome, 
welcome  to  your  prey !”  he  yelled ; and, 
drawing  a knife  from  his  sash,  darted  it  into 
his  bosom.  The  act  was  so  instantaneous, 
that  to  arrest  the  blow  was  impossible. 
He  fell,  and  died  with  a brief  fierce  strug- 
gle. 

“ Horrible  end,”  murmured  Jubal,  gazing 
on  the  stiffened  form  ; — “ here  is  theory  an- 
swered at  once.  Happier  for  that  wretch 
to  have  perished  in  the  hottest  strife  of  man 
or  nature,  trampled  in  the  charge,  or  plung- 
ed into  the  billows  ! But,  save  me  from  the 
misery  of  lonely  death  !” 

“ Yet  it  was  our  presence  that  made  him 
1 feel.  He  was  guilty  of  some  crime,  perhaps 
of  many,  that  the  sight  of  us  strangely 
awoke  to  torment  his  dying  hour.  He  gazed 
upon  me  with  evident  alarm,  and,  not 
improbably,  my  withered  face,  and  those 
rags  of  my  dungeon,  startled  him  into 
recollections  too  strong  for  his  decaying 
reason.” 

“ Have  you  ever  seen  him  before  1” 

“ Never.”  I gave  a reluctant  look  to  the 
hideous  distortion  of  a countenance  still  full 
of  the  final  agony. 


110 


Salathiel. 


“ Now,  to  think  of  ourselves.  We  shall 
have  soon  our  own  experiment  fairly  tried. 
A few  days  must  exhaust  our  provisions. 
The  surges  roll  on  one  hand,  on  the  other 
we  have  the  rock.  But  we  shall  die  at  least 
in  pomp.  No  king  of  Asia  will  lie  in  a no- 
bler vault,  nor  even  have  sincerer  rejoicings 
at  his  end ; the  crows  and  vultures  are  no 
hypocrites,”  said  Jubal,  with  a melancholy 
smile. 

The  dead  man’s  turban  had  fallen  off  in 
his  last  violence,  and  I perceived  the  corner 
of  a letter  in  its  folds.  Its  intelligence  start- 
led me.  It  was  from  the  commandant  of  the 
Roman  fleet  on  the  coast,  mentioning  that  a 
squadron  was  in  readiness  to  “attack  the 
pirates  in  their  cavern.” 

A heavy  sound,  as  if  something  of  im- 
mense weight  had  rushed  into  the  entrance 
of  the  arch  and  then  the  echo  of  many  voices, 
stopped  our  conversation. 

“ The  Romans  have  come,”  said  I,  “ and 
you  will  be  now  indulged  with  your  wish  ; 
our  lives  are  forfeited;  for  never  will  I go 
back  to  the  dungeon.” 

“ I hear  no  sound  but  that  of  laughter,” 
said  Jubul,  listening;  “those  invaders  are 
the  merriest  of  cut-throats.  But,  before  we 
give  ourselves  actually  into  their  hands,  let 
us  see  of  what  they  are  made.” 

We  left  the  chamber,  and  returned  to  the 
recess  from  which  we  had  originally  emerg- 
ed. Its  position  commanded  a view  of  the 
chief  avenues  and  chambers  of  the  cavern  ; 
and  while  I was  busy  below  in  securing  the 
door,  Jubal  mounted  the  wall,  and  recon- 
noitered  the  enemy  through  a fissure. 
“Those  are  no  Romans,”  whispered  he, 
“ but  a set  of  the  most  jovial  fellows  that 
ever  robbed  on  the  seas.  They  have  clearly 
been  driven  in  by  the  storm,  and  are  now 
preparing  to  feast.  Their  voyage  has  been 
lucky,  if  I am  to  judge  by  the  bales  that 
they  are  hauling  in  ; and,  if  wine  can  do  it, 
they  will  be  in  an  hour  or  two  drunk  to  the 
last  man.” 

“ Then  we  can  take  advantage  of  their 
sleep,  let  loose  one  of  their  boats,  and 
away.” 

I mounted,  to  see  this  pirate  festivity.  In 
the  various  vistas  of  the  huge  cavern,  groups 
of  bold-faced  and  athletic  men  were  gathered, 
all  busy  with  the  bustle  of  the  time : some 
piling  fires  against  the  walls,  and  preparing 
provisions:  some  stripping  off  their  wet  gar- 
ments, and  brinsfing  others  out.  of  heaps  of 
every  kind  and  color,  from  recesses  in  the 
rock  : some  furbishing  their  arms,  and  wiping 
the  spray  from  rusty  helmets  and  corslets. 
The  hollow  vaults  rang  with  songs,  boister- 
ous laughter,  the  rattling  of  armor,  and  the 
creaking  and  rolling  of  chests  of  plunder. 
The  dashing  of  the  sea  under  the  gale  filled 


up  this  animated  dissonance;  and  at  intervals 
the  thunder  bursting  directly  above  our  heads, 
overpowered  all,  and  silenced  all. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

The  chamber,  whose  costly  equipment  first 
told  us  of  the  opulence  of  its  masters,  was  set 
apart  for  the  chief  rovers,  who  were  soon 
seated  at  a large  table  in  its  centre,  cov  red 
with  luxury.  Flagons  of  wine  were  brought 
from  cellars  known  only  to  the  initiated ; 
fruits  piled  in  silver  baskets  blushed  along  the 
board  ; plate  of  the  richest  workmanship,  the 
plunder  of  palaces  and  temples,  glittered  in 
every  form ; tripods  loaded  with  aromatic 
wood  threw  a blaze  up  to  the  marble  roof; 
and  from  the  central  arch  hung  a superb 
Greek  lamp,  shooting  out  a light  from  a hun- 
dred mouths  of  serpents  twined  in  all  possible 
ways.  The  party  before  me  were  about  thir- 
ty: as  fierce  looking  figures  as  ever  toiled 
through  tempest:  some  splendidly  attired, 
some  in  the  rough  costume  of  the  deck ; but 
all  jovial,  and  determined  to  make  the  most 
of  their  time.  Other  men  had  paid  for  the 
banquet;  and  there  was  probably  not  a vase 
on  their  table  that  was  not  the  purchase  of 
personal  hazard.  They  sat,  conquerers,  in 
the  midst  of  their  own  trophies  ; and  not  the 
most  self-indulgent  son  of  opulence  could 
have  more  luxuriated  in  his  wealth,  nor  the 
most  exquisite  student  of  epicurism  have 
discussed  his  luxuries  with  more  finished 
and  fastidious  science.  Lounging  on  couches 
covered  with  embroidered  draperies,  too  cost- 
ly for  all  but  princes,  they  lectured  the  cooks 
without  mercy  : the  venison,  pheasants,  stur- 
geon, and  a multitude  of  other  dishes,  were 
in  succession  pronounced  utterly  unfit  to  be 
touched  ; and  the  wine  was  tasted,  and  dis- 
missed with  the  scorn  of  palates  refined  to 
the  highest  point  of  delicacy.  Yet  the  sea 
air  was  not  to  be  trifled  with  : and  a succes- 
sion of  courses  appeared,  and  were  dispatch- 
ed with  a diligence  that  prohibited  all  lan- 
guage, beyond  the  pithy  phrases  of  delight 
or  disappointment. 

The  wine  at  length  set  the  conversation 
flowing;  and,  from  the  merits  of  the  various 
vintages,  the  speakers  diverged  into  the 
Sfeneral  subjects  of  politics  and  their  profes- 
sion ; on  the  former  of  which  they  visited 
all  parties  with  tolerably  equal  ridicule;  and, 
on  the  latter,  declared  unanimously,  that  the 
only  cause  worthy  of  a man  of  sense  was  the 
'cause  for  which  they  were  assembled  round 
that  table.  The  next  staee  was  the  more 
| hazardous  one  of  personal  jocularity;  yet 
I even  this  was  got  over,  with  but  a few  mur- 
murs  from  the  parties  suffering.  Songs  and 


Salalhiel. 


Ill 


toasts  to  themselves,  their  loves,  matron  and 
maid,  within  the  shores  of  the  Mediterra- 
nean; and  their  enterprises  in  all  time  to 
come,  relieved  the  drier  topics ; and  all  was 
good  fellowship,  until  one  unlucky  goblet  of  ( 
spoiled  wine  soured  the  table. 

“So,  this  you  call  Chian,”  exclaimed  a' 
broad-built  figure,  whose  yellow  hair  and 
blue  eyes  showed  him  a son  of  the  north ; 
“ may  I be  poisoned,”  and  he  made  a hideous 
grimace,  “ if  more  detestable  vinegar  ever 
was  brewed  ; let  me  but  meet  the  merchant, 
and  I shall  teach  him  a lesson  that  he  will 
remember,  when  next  he  thinks  of  murder- 
ing men  at  their  meals.  Here,  baboon,  take 
it;  it  is  fit  only  for  such  as  you.”  He  flung 
the  goblet  point-blank  at  the  head  of  a ne- 
gro, who  escaped  it  only  by  bounding  to  one 
side  with  the  agility  of  the  ape,  that  he  so 
much  resembled. 

“ Bad  news,  Vladomir,  for  our  winter’s 
stock,  for  half  of  it  is  Chian,”  said  a dark- 
featured  and  brilliant-eyed  Arab,  who  sat 
at  the  head  of  the  table.  “ Ho  ! Syphax, 
fill  round  from  that  flagon,  and  let  us 
hold  a council  of  war  upon  the  delinquent 
wine.” 

The  slave  dexterously  changed  the  wine  ; 
it  was  poured  round,  pronounced  first- rate, 
and  the  German  was  laughed  at  remorse- 
lessly. 

“ I suppose  I am  not  to  believe  my  own 
senses,”  remonstrated  Vladomir. 

“ Oh  ! by  all  means,  as  long  as  you  keep 
them,”  said  one  laughing. 

“ Will  you  tell  me,  that  I don’t  know 
the  difference  between  wine  and  that  poi- 
son 1” 

“ Neither  you  nor  any  man,  friend  Vla- 
domir, can  know  much  upon  the  subject 
after  his  second  dozen  of  goblets ;”  sneer- 
ed another  at  the  German’s  national  propen- 
sity. 

“You  do  him  injustice,”  said  a subtle-vis- 
aged  Chiote  at  the  opposite  side  of  the  table. 
“He  is  as  much  in  his  senses  this  moment 
as  ever  he  was.  There  are  brains  of  that 
happy  constitution,  which  defies  alike  reason 
and  wine.” 

“Well,  I say  no  more,”  murmured  the 
German,  sullenly,  “than,  confound  tne  spot: 
on  which  that  wine  grew,  wherever  it  lies;; 
the  hungriest  vineyard  on  the  Rhine  would 
be  ashamed  to  show  its  equal.  By  Woden, 
the  very  taste  will  go  with  me  to  my 
grave.” 

“Perhaps  it  may,”  said  the  Chiote,  irri- 
tated for  the  honor  of  his  country,  and  signifi- 
cantly touching  his  dagger.  “ But  were 
you  ever  in  the  island  1” 

“No;  nor  ever  shall,  with  my  own  con- 
sent, if  that  flagon  be  from  it,”  growled  the 
German,  with  his  broad  eye  glaring  on  his 


adversary  : “ I have  seen  enough  of  its  pro- 
duce, alive  and  dead  to-night.” 

The  wind  roared  without,  and  a tremen- 
dous thunder  peal  checked  the  angry  dia- 
logue. There  was  a general  pause. 

“Come,  comrades,  no  quarrelling,”  cried 
the  Arab.  “ Heavens,  how  the  storm  comes 
on  ! Nothing  can  ride  out  to-night.  Here’s 
the  captain’s  health,  and  safe  home  to  him.” 
The  cups  were  filled;  but  the  disputants 
were  not  to  be  so  easily  reconciled. 

“ Ho ! Memnon,”  cried  the  master  of  the 
table  to  a sallow  Egyptain,  richly  clothed, 
and  whose  scimetar  and  dagger  sparkled 
with  jewels.  He  was  engaged  in  close 
council  with  the  rover  at  his  side.  “ Lay 
by  business  now  ; you  don’t  like  the  wine,  or 
the  toast  !” 

The  Egyptian,  startled  from  his  conference, 
professed  his  perfect  admiration  of  both,  and 
sipping,  returned  to  his  whisper. 

“ Memnon  won’t  drink,  for  fear  of  letting 
out  his  secrets;  for  instance,  where  he  found 
that  scimetar,  or  what  has  become  of  the 
owner,”  said  a young  and  handsome  Idu- 
mean,  with  a smile. 

“ I should  like  to  know  by  what  authority 
you  ask  me  questions  on  the  subject.  If  it 
had  been  in  your  hands,  I should  have  never 
thought  any  necessary,”  retorted  the  scowl- 
ing Egyptian. 

“ Aye,  of  course  not,  Memnon : my  way 
is  well  known.  Fight  rather  than  steal ; 
plunder  rather  than  cheat;  and,  after  the 
affair  is  over,  account  to  captain  and  crew, 
rather  than  glitter  in  their  property,”  was 
the  Idumean’s  answer,  with  a glow  of  indig- 
nation reddening  his  striking  features. 

“ By  the  by,”  said  the  Arab,  in  whose 
eye  the  gems  flashed  temptingly:  “I  think 
that  Memnon  is  always  under  a lucky  star. 
VVe  come  home  in  rags,  but  he  regularly  re- 
turns the  better  for  his  trip:  why,  Ptolemy 
himself  has  not  a more  exquisite  tailor.  All 
depends,  however,  upon  a man’s  knowledge 
of  navigation  in  this  world.” 

“ And  friend  Memnon  knows  every  point 
of  it,  but  plain  sailing,”  said  the  contempt- 
uous Idumean. 

The  Egyptian’s  sallow  skin  grew  livid. 
“ I may  be  coward,  or  liar,  or  pilferer,  or 
what  you  will,”  exclaimed  he;  “but,  if  I 
were  the  whole  three,  I could  stand  no 
chance  of  being  distinguished  in  the  present 
company.” 

“Insult  to  the  whole  profession,”  exclaim- 
ed the  Arab.  “ And  now  I insist,  in  the 
general  name,  on  your  giving  a plain  account 
of  the  proceeds  of  your  last  cruise.  You  can 
be  at  no  loss  for  it.” 

“No;  for  he  has  it  by  his  side,  and  in  the 
most  brilliant  arithmetic,”  said  Hanno,  a sa- 
tirical-visaged  son  of  Carthage. 


112 


Salat  hiel. 


“ I must  hear  no  more  on  the  subject;” 
bitterly  pronounced  the  Egyptian.  “ Those 
diamonds  belong  to  neither  captain  nor  crew. 
I purchased  them  fairly ; and  the  seller  was, 
I will  undertake  to  say,  the  better  off  of  the 
two.” 

“Yes;  1 will  undertake  to  say,”  laughed 
the  Idumean,  “ that  you  left  him  the  happiest 
dog  in  existence.  It  is  care  that  makes  us 
all  miserable ; and  the  less  we  have  to  care 
for,  the  luckier  we  are.  I have  not  a doubt 
you  left  the  fellow  at  the  summit  of  earthly 
rapture !” 

“ Aye !”  added  the  Arab,  “ without  a sor- 
row or  a shekel  in  the  world.” 

Boisterous  mirth  followed  the  Egyptian,  as 
he  started  from  his  couch  and  left  the  hall; 
casting  fierce  looks  in  his  retreat,  like  Par- 
thian arrows,  on  the  carousal. 

The  German  had,  in  the  mean  time,  fallen 
back  in  a doze;  from  which  he  was  disturbed 
by  the  slave’s  refilling  his  goblet. 

“Aye,  that  tastes  like  wine,”  said  he, 
glancing  at  the  Greek,  who  had  by  no  means 
forgotten  the  controversy. 

“ Taste  what  it  may,  it  is  the  very  same 
wine  that  you  railed  at  half  an  hour  ago,” 
returned  the  Chiote:  “the  truth  is,  my  good 
Vladornir,  that  the  wine  of  Greece  is  like  its 
language ; both  are  exquisite  and  unrivalled, 
to  those  who  understand  them.  But  nature 
wisely  adapts  tastes  to  men,  and  men  to 
tastes.  I am  not  at  all  surprised,  that  north 
of  the  Danube  they  prefer  beer.” 

The  German  had  nothing  to  give  back  for 
the  taunt,  but  the  frown  that  gathered  on  his 
black  brow. 

The  Chiote  pursued  his  triumph;  and  with 
a lanquid,  lover-like  gaze  on  the  wine,  which 
sparkled  in  purple  radiance  to  the  brim  of  its 
enamelled  cup,  he  apostrophized  the  produce 
of  his  fine  country.  “ Delicious  grape — es- 
sence of  the  sunshine  and  of  the  dew — what 
vales  but  the  vales  of  Chios  could  have  pro- 
duced thee  ! What  tint  of  heaven  is  brighter 
than  thy  hue;  what  fragrance  of  earth  richer 
than  thy  perfume  !” 

He  lightly  sipped  a few  drops  from  the 
edge,  like  a libation  to  the  deity  of  taste. 

“ Exquisite  draught,”  breathed  he  ; “ un- 
equalled but  by  the  rosy  lip  and  melting  sigh 
of  beauty.  Well  spoke  the  proverb — ‘ Chios, 
whose  wines  steal  every  head,  and  whose 
women  every  heart.’  ” 

“You  forget  the  rest,”  gladly  interrupted 
the  German  : — “ And  whose  men  steal  every 
thing.”  A general  laugh  followed  the  retort, 
such  as  it  was. 

“ Scythian !”  said  the  Greek,  across  the 
table,  in  a voice  made  low  by  rage  and  pre- 
paring to  strike. 

“ Liar !”  roared  the  German,  sweeping  a 
blow  of  his  falchion,  which  the  Chiote  escap- 


ed only  by  flinging  himself  on  the  ground. 
The  blow  fell  on  the  table,  where  it  caused 
wide  devastation.  All  now  started  up, 
swords  were  out  on  every  side;  and  nothing 
but  forcing  the  antagonists  to  their  cells, 
prevented  the  last  perils  ofi'a'  difference  of 
palate. 

The  storm  bellowed  deeper  and  deeper. 

“ Here’s  to  the  luck  that  sent  us  back  be- 
fore this  north-wester  thought  of  stirring 
abroad,”  said  the  Arab:  “I  wish  our  noble 
captain  were  among  us  now.  Where  was 
he  last  seen  V’ 

“ Steering  westward,  off  and  on  Rhodes, 
looking  out  for  the  galley  that  carried  the 
procurator’s  plate.  But  this  wind  must  send 
him  in  before  morning,”  was  the  answer  of 
Hanno. 

“ Or  send  him  to  the  bottom,  where  many 
as  bold  a fellow  has  gone  before  him,”  whis- 
' pered  a tall,  haggard-looking  Italian  to  the 
answerer. 

“ That  would  be  good  news  for  one  of  us 
at  least,”  said  Hanno.  “ You  would  have 
no  reckoning  to  settle.  Your  crew  made  a 
handsome  affair  of  that  Alexandrian  prize. 
And  the  captain  might  be  looking  for  returns, 
friend  Tertullus.”  1 

“ Then  let  him  look  to  himself.  His  time 
may  be  nearer  than  he  thinks.  His  haughti- 
ness, and  trampling  upon  men  as  good  as 
himself,  may  provoke  justice  before  long,” 
growled  the  Italian,  indignant  at  some  late 
discipline. 

“Justice! — is  the  man  mad  1 The  very 
sound  is  high  treason  in  our  gallant  company. 
Why,  comrade,  if  justice  ever  ventured  here, 
where  would  some  of  us  have  been  these  last 
six  months  1” 

The  sound  caught  the  general  ear ; the 
allusion  was  understood,  and  the  Italian  was 
displeased. 

“ I hate  to  be  remarkable,”  said  he : “ with 
the  honest,  it  may  be  proper  to  be  honest ; 
but  beside  you,  my  facetious  Hanno,  a man 
should  cultivate  a little  of  the  opposite 
school,  in  mere  compliment  to  his  friend. 
You  had  no  scruples  when  you  hanged  the 
merchant  the  other  day.” 

A murmur  rose  in  the  hall. 

“Comrades,”  said  Hanno,  with  the  air  of 
an  orator;  “hear  me  too  on  that  subject: 
three  words  will  settle  the  question  to  men 
of  sense.  The  merchant  was  a regular 
trader.  Will  any  man  who  knows  the  world, 
and  has  brains  an  atom  clearer  than  those 
with  which  Heaven  in  its  mercy  has  gifted 
my  virtuous  friend,  believe  that  I,  a regular 
liver  by  the  merchant,  would  extinguish 
that  by  which  I live ? Sensible  physicians 
never  kill  a patient,  while  he  can  pay; 
sensible  kings  never  exterminate  a province, 
when  it  can  produce  any  thing  in  the  shape 


Salathiel. 


113 


of  a tax  ; sensible  women  never  pray  for  the 
extinction  of  the  male  sex,  until  they  despair 
of  getting  husbands;  sensible  husbands  never 
wish  their  wives  out  of  the  \vorld,  while 
they  can  get  any  thing  by  their  living  ; so, 
sensible  men  of  our  profession  will  never  put 
a merchant  under  water,  until  they  can 
make  nothing  by  his  remaining  above  it.  I 
have,  for  instance,  raised  contributions  on 
that  same  trader  every  summer  these  five 
years ; and,  by  the  blessing  of  fortune,  hope 
to  have  the  same  thing  to  say  for  five  times 
as  many  years  to  come.  No ; I would  not 
see  any  man  touch  a hair  of  his  head.  In 
six  months  he  will  have  a cargo  again,  and  I 
shall  meet  him  with  as  much  pleasure  as 
ever.”  The  Carthaginian  was  highly  ap- 
plauded. 

“ Malek,  you  don’t  drink;”  cried  the  Arab 
to  a gigantic  Ethiopian  towards  the  end  of 
the  table.  “ Here,  I pledge  you  in  the  very 
wine  that  was  marked  for  the  Emperor’s 
cellar.” 

Malek  tasted  it,  and  sent  back  a cup  in 
return. 

“ The  Emperor’s  wine  may  be  good 
enough  for  him,”  was  the  message.  “ But 
this  cup  contains  the  wine  marked  for  the 
Emperc’s  butler.” 

The  verdict  was  fully  in  favor  of  the 
Ethiopian. 

“ In  all  matters  of  this  kind,”  said  Malek, 
with  an  air  of  supreme  taste,  “ I look  first  to 
the  stores  of  the  regular  professors — the 
science  of  life  is  in  the  masters  of  the  kitchen 
and  the  cellar.  Your  Emperors  and  Procu- 
rators, of  course,  must  be  content  with  what 
they  can  get.  But  the  man  who  wishes  to 
have  the  first-rate  dinner,  should  be  on  good 
terms  with  the  cook  and  the  butler.  I 
caught  this  sample  on  my  last  voyage  after 
the  imperial  fleet.  Nero  never  had  such  wine 
on  bis  table.” 

He  indulged  himself  in  a long  draught  of 
this  exclusive  luxury;  and  sank  on  his 
couch,  with  his  hand  clasping  the  superbly- 
embossed  flagon,  a part  of  his  prize. 

“ The  black  churl,”  said  a little  shrivelled 
Syrian,  “ never  shares : he  keeps  his  wine, 
as  he  keeps  his  money.” 

“ Aye,  he  keeps  every  thing  but  his  char- 
acter,” whispered  Hanno. 

“There  you  wrong  him,”  observed  the 
Syrian  ; “ no  man  keeps  his  character  more 
steadily.  By  Beelzebub  ! it  is  like  his  skin  ; 
neither  will  be  blacker  the  longest  day  he 
has  to  live.” 

A roar  of  laughter  rose  round  the  hall. 

“ Black  or  not  black,”  exclaimed  the 
Ethiopian,  with  a sullen  grin,  that  showed 
bis  teeth  like  the  fangs  of  a wild  beast,  “ my 
blood’s  as  red  as  yours.” 

“ Possibly,”  retorted  the  little  Syrian ; 


'“but,  as  I must  take  your  word  on  the  sub- 
j ject  till  I shall  have  seen  a drop  of  it  spilt  in 
j fair  fight,  I only  hope  I may  live  and  be 
! happy  till  then;  and  I cannot  put  up  abetter 
prayer  for  a merry  old  age.” 

“ There  is  no  chance  of  your  ever  seeing 
it,”  growled  the  Ethiopian ; “ you  love  the 
baggage  and  the  hold  too  well  to  leave  them 
to  accident,  be  the  fight  fair  or  foul.” 

The  laugh  was  easily  raised ; and  it  was 
turned  against  the  Syrian,  who  started  up, 
and  declaimed  with  a fury  of  gesture,  that 
made  the  ridicule  still  louder. 

“ I appeal  to  all,”  cried  the  fiery  orator. 
“ I appeal  to  every  man  of  honor  among  us, 
whether  by  night  or  day,  on  land  or  water,  I 
have  ever  been  backward  1” 

“ Never  at  an  escape,”  interrupted  the 
Ethiopian. 

“ VVhether  I have  ever  broken  faith  with 
the  band  1” 

j “ Likely  enough  : where  nobody  trusts  we 
may  defy  treason.” 

“ Whether  my  character  and  services  are 
not  known  and  valued  by  our  captain  1”  still 
louder  exclaimed  the  irritated  Syrian. 

“ Aye,  just  as  little  as  they  deserve.” 

“ Silence,  brute,”  screamed  the  diminutive 
adversary,  casting  his  keen  eyes,  that  doubly 
blazed  with  rage,  on  the  Ethiopian,  who  still 
lay  embracing  the  flagon  at  his  ease.  “ With 
heroes  of  your  complexion  I disdain  all  con- 
test. If  I must  fight,  it  shall  be  with  human 
beings,  not  with  savages — with  men,  not 
monsters.” 

The  Ethiopian’s  black  cheek  absolutely 
grew  red : this  taunt  was  the  sting.  At  one 
prodigious  bound  he  sprang  across  the  table, 
and  darted  upon  the  Syrian’s  throat  with  the 
roar  and  the  fury  of  a tiger. 

All  was  instant  confusion  : lamps,  flagons, 
fruits  were  trampled  on  ; the  table  was  over- 
thrown; swords  and  poinards  flashed  in  all 
hands.  The  little  Syrian  yelled,  strangling 
in  the  grasp  of  the  black  giant ; and  it  was 
with  the  utmost  difficulty  that  he  could  be 
| rescued.  The  Arab,  a fine  athletic  fellow, 
achieved  this  object,  and  bade  him  run  for 
his  life  : a command  with  which  he  complied 
unhesitatingly ; followed  by  a cheer  from 
Hanno,  who  swore  that  if  all  trades  failed, 
he  would  make  his  fortune  by  his  heels  at 
the  Olympic  games. 

Our  share  of  the  scene  was  come.  The 
fugitive,  naturally  bold  enough,  but  startled 
, by  the  savage  ferocity  of  his  antagonist,  made 
his  way  towards  our  place  of  refuge.  The 
black  got  loose,  and  pursued.  I disdained 
to  be  dragged  forth  as  a lurking  culprit ; and 
flinging  open  the  door,  stood  before  the 
crowd. 

The  effect  was  marvellous.  The  tumult 
, was  hushed  at  once.  Terror  seized  upon 


114 


Salalhiel. 


their  boldest.  Our  haggard  forms,  seen  by 
that  half  intoxication  which  bewilders  the 
brain  before  it  enfeebles  the  senses,  were 
completely  fitted  to  startle  the  superstition 
that  lurks  in  the  bosom  of  every  son  of  the 
sea ; and  for  the  moment,  they  evidently 
took  us  for  something  better  or  worse  than 
man. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

But  the  delusion  was  short  lived ; my 
voice  broke  the  spell ; and  perhaps  the  con- 
sciousness of  their  idle  alarm  increased  their 
rage.  “ Spies!”  was  then  their  outcry  ; and 
this  dreaded  sound  brought  from  their  beds 
and  tables  the  whole  band.  It  was  in  vain 
that  I attempted  to  speak  ; the  mob  have  no 
ears,  whether  in  cities  or  caves;  and  we  were 
dragged  forward  to  undergo  our  examination. 
Yet  what  was  to  be  done  in  the  midst  of  a 
host  of  tongues,  all  questioning,  accusing, 
and  swearing  together  ? 

Some  were  ready  to  take  every  star  of 
heaven  to  witness,  that  we  were  a pair  of 
Papblagonian  pilots,  and  the  identical  ones 
hired  to  run  two  of  their  ships  aground,  by 
which  the  best  expedition  of  the  year  was 
undone.  Others  knew  us  to  have  been  in 
the  regular  pay  of  the  Procurator,  and  the 
means  of  betraying  their  last  captain  to  the 
axe.  But  the  majority  honored  us  with  the 
character  of  simple  thieves,  who  had  taken 
advantage  of  their  absence,  and  been  driven 
to  hide  among  the  baggage. 

The  question  next  rose : “ how  we  could 
Bave  got  in  1”  and  for  the  first  time  the  ca- 
rousers  thought  of  their  sentinel.  I told 
them  what  I had  seen.  They  poured  into 
his  chamber,  and  their  suspicions  were  fixed 
in  inexorable  reality — “We  had  murdered 
him.”  The  speediest  death  for  us  was  now 
the  only  consideration.  Every  man  had  his 
proposal ; and  never  were  more  curious  varie- 
ties of  escape  from  this  evil  world  offered  to 
two  wretches  already  weary  of  it;  but  the 
Arab’s  voice  carried  the  point.  “ He  disliked 
seeing  men  tossed  into  the  fire  ; ropes  were 
too  useful,  and  the  sword  was  too  honorable 
to  be  employed  on  rogues.  But,  as  by  water 
we  came,  by  water  we  should  go.”  The 
sentence  was  received  with  a shout;  and 
amid-t  laughter,  furious  cries,  and  threats  of 
vengeance,  we  were  dragged  to  the  mouth  of 
the  cave. 

The  sternest  suicide  must  die  in  his  own 
way,  or  lie  will  shrink.  I was  wreckless  of 
life  ; hut  I had  not  prepared  myself  for  this 
midnight  divorce  from  the  world.  The  tem- 
pest was  appalling.  The- waves  burst  into 
the  anchorage  in  huge  heaps,  dashing  sheets' 


of  foam  up  to  its  roof.  The  wind  volleyed  in 
gusts  that  took  the  strongest  off  their  feet ; 
the  galleys  were  tossed,  as  if  they  were  so 
many  weeds  on  the  surface  of  the  water. 
Lamps  and  torches  were  useless;  and  the 
only  light  was  from  the  funeral  gleam  of  the 
billows,  and  the  sheets  of  sulpliureous  fire 
that  fell  upon  the  turbulence  of  ocean  beyond. 
Even  the  hearty  forms  round  me  were  dis- 
heartened ; and  I took  advantage  of  a furious 
gust  that  swung  us  all  aside,  to  struggle 
from  their  grasp,  and  seizing  a pike,  fought 
for  my  life.  Jubal  seconded  me  with  a bold- 
ness that  no  decay  could  exhaust ; and  setting 
our  backs  to  the  rock,  we  for  a while  baffled 
our  executioners.  But  this  could  not  last 
against  such  numbers  as  poured  to  their  as- 
sistance. Our  pikes  were  broken  ; we  were 
hemmed  in,  and  finally  dragged  again  to  the 
mouth  of  the  cavern,  that  with  its  foam  and 
the  howl  of  the  tumbling  billows,  looked  like 
the  jaws  of  some  huge  monster  ready  for  its 
prey. 

Enfeebled,  bruised  and  overpowered,  I was 
on  the  point  of  denying  my  murderers  their 
last  indulgence,  and  plunging  headlong; 
when  a trumpet  sounded.  The  pirates  loosed 
their  holds;  and  in  a few  minutes  a large 
galley  with  all  her  oars  broken  and  every 
sail  torn  to  fragments,  shot  by  the  mouth  of 
the  cavern.  A joyous  cry  of  “ The  captain ! 
the  captain  !”  echoed  through  the  vaults. 
The  galley,  disabled  by  the  storm,  tacked 
several  times  before  she  could  make  the 
entrance;  but  at  length,  by  a masterly  man- 
oeuvre, she  was  brought  round,  and  darted 
right  in  on  the  top  of  a mountainous  billow. 
Before  the  galley  touched  the  ground,  the 
captain  had  leaped  into  the  arms  of  the  band, 
who  received  him  with  shouts.  His  quick  eye 
fell  upon  us  at  once,  and  he  demanded  fierce- 
ly, “ what  we  were!”  “ Spies  and  thieves,” 
was  the  general  reply.  “ Spies !”  he  re- 
peated ; looking  contemptuously  on  our  habi- 
liments. “ Impossible. — Thieves  very  likely, 
and  very  beggarly  ones. — Yet  do  you  think 
that  such  wretches  would  dare  to  come,  of 
themselves,  within  our  claws'!” 

I denied  both  imputations  alike.  He  seem- 
ed struck  with  my  words,  and  said  to  the 
crowd,  “ folly  ! Take  them  away,  if  it  does 
not  require  too  much  courage  to  touch  them  ; 
and  let  them  be  washed  and  fed  for  the  honor 
of  hospitality  and  their  own  faces.  The  two 
poor  devils  have  doubtless  been  driven  in  by 
the  rough  night;  and  it  is  rough  enough  to 
make  a man  wish  to  be  any  where  but 
abroad.  Here,  change  my  clothes,  and  order 
supper.” 

“ We  cannot  be  too  cautious.  They  may 
still  be  spies,”  said  the  Egyptian,  who  had 
just  arrived  from  his  slumbers. 

I attempted  to  explain  how  we  came. 


Salathiel. 


115 


“ Of  course — of  course,”  said  the  captain, 
pulling  off  his  dripping  garments,  and  fling- 
ing his  cloak  to  one,  his  cuirass  to  another, 
and  his  cap  to  a third.  “ Your  rags  would 
vouch  for  you  in  any  port  on  earth.  Or,  if 
you  carry  on  the  trade  of  treachery,  you  are 
very  ill  paid.  Why,  Memnon,  look  at  these 
fellows ; would  you  give  a shekel  for  their 
souls  and  bodies'?  Not  a mite.  When  I 
look  for  spies,  I expect  to  find  them  among 
the  prosperous.  The  rogues  who  deal  in 
secret  intelligence  take  too  good  care  of  them- 
selves. Embroidered  cloaks,  and  jewel-hilted 
scimetars  are  a safer  sign  than  naked  skins 
at  any  time.  However,  if  you  turn  out  to  be 
spies,  eat,  drink,  and  sleep  your  best  to-night, 
for  you  shall  be  hanged  to-morrow.” 

He  hurried  onwards,  and  we  followed, 
still  in  durance.  The  banquet  was  rein- 
stated ; and  the  principal  personages  of  the 
band  gathered  round  to  hear  the  adventures 
of  the  voyage. 

“All  has  been  ill  luck,”  said  he,  tossing 
off  a bumper.  “ The  old  procurator’s  spirit 
was,  I think,  abroad  ; either  to  take  care  of 
his  plate,  or  to  torment  mankind,  according 
to  his  custom.  We  were  within  a boat’s 
length  of  the  prize,  when  the  wind  came  right 
in  our  teeth.  Every  thing  that  could,  ran 
for  the  harbor;  some  went  on  the  rocks — 
some  straight  to  the  bottom ; and  that  we 
might  not  follow  their  example,  I put  the 
good  ship  before'  the  wind,  and  never  was 
better  pleased  than  to  find  myself  at  home. 
Thus,  you  see,  comrades,  that  my  history  is 
brief;  but  then  it  has  an  advantage  that  his- 
tory sometimes  denies  itself — every  syllable 
of  it  is  true.” 

As  the  light  of  the  lamps  fell  on  him,  it 
struck  me  that  his  face  was  familiar  to  my 
recollection.  He  was  young,  but  the  habits 
of  his  life  had  given  him  a premature  | 
manhood ; his  eye  flashed  and  sparkled 
with  Greek  brilliancy,  but  his  cheek, 
after  the  first  flush  of  the  banquet,  was  pale  ; 
and  the  thinness  of  a physiognomy,  natu- 
rally masculine  and  noble,  showed  that 
either  care  or  hardship  had  lain  heavily  upon 
his  days. 

He  had  scarcely  sat  down  to  the  table, 
when  his  glance  turning  where  we  stood 
guarded,  he  ordered  us  to  be  brought  before 
him. 

“ I think,”  said  he,  “ you  came  here  but  a 
day  or  two  ago.  Did  you  find  no  difficulty 
with  our  sentinels?” 

“ Ha  !”  exclaimed  the  Arab,  “ how  could 
I have  forgotten  that  ? I left  Titus,  or  by 
i whatever  of  his  hundred  names  he  chose  to 
be  called,  on  guard,  at  his  own  request,  the 
day  1 steered  for  the  Nile.  He  was  sick,  or 
pretended  to  be  so;  and,  as  I gave  myself  but 
a couple  of  days  for  the  voyage,  I expected  1 1 


j to  be  back  in  time  to  save  him  from  the  hor- 
rors of  his  own  company.  But  the  wind  said 
otherwise — the  two  days  were  ten;  and  on 
my  return,  we  found  the  wretched  fellow  a 
corpse, — whether  from  being  taken  ill,  and 
unable  to  help  himself,  or  from  the  assist- 
ance of  those  worthy  persons  here,  whom  we 
discovered  in  attendance.” 

“ On  that  subject  I have  no  doubt  what- 
ever,” interposed  the  Egyptian  : “ those  vil- 
lains murdered  him.” 

“ It  is  possible,”  mused  the  captain.  “ But 
I cannot  foresee  what  they  are  to  get  by  it. 
A question  that  you  at  least  will  acknow- 
ledge to  be  of  considerable  importance,”  said 
he,  with  a careless  smile  at  the  Egyptian, 
whose  avarice  was  proverbial. 

The  object  of  the  satire  was  stung;  and  to 
get  rid  of  the  dangerous  topic,  he  affected 
wrath,  and  said  impetuously,  “Let  it  be  so; 
let  our  blood  go  for  nothing.  Let  treachery 
thrive.  Let  our  throats  be  at  the  mercy  of 
every  wandering  ruffian ; and  let  us  have  the 
consolation  that  our  labors  and  our  sacrifices 
will  be  horfored  with  a sneer.”  He  turned 
[to  the  crowd  waiting  round  us.  “Brave 
(comrades!”  exclaimed  he,  “ henceforth  un- 
| derstand  that  you  are  at  every  dagger’s 
mercy?  that,  if  you  are  left  behind,  you  may 
jbe  assassinated  with  impunity:  as,  if  you  are 
taken  out  upon  our  foolish  expeditions,  your 
lives  may  be  flung  away  upon  the  whims  and 
follies  of  would-be  heroes.” 

The  crowd,  fickle,  and  inflamed  by  wine, 
gave  a huzza  for  the  “sailor’s  friend.”  The 
Egyptian  encouraged,  and  having  a long  load 
of  gall  upon  his  memory,  made  the  desperate 
venture  of  at  once  disowning  the  authority 
of  the  captain,  and  ordering  in  his  own  name 
that  we  should  be  delivered  over  to  execu- 
tion. 

The  captain  listened,  without  a word  ; but 
his  hand  was  on  his  scimetar,  and  his  cheek 
burned,  as  he  fixed  his  eyes  on  the  livid  accu- 
ser. The  crowd  pressed  closer  upon  us ; and 
I saw  the  dagger  pointed  at  my  breast — when 
I recollected  the  letter ; I gave  it  to  the  cap- 
tain, who  read  it  in  silence;  and  then  with 
the  utmost  composure,  desired  it  to  be  handed 
over  to  the  Egyptian. 

“ Comrades,”  said  he,  “ T have  to  apologize 
for  a breach  of  the  confidence  that  should 
always  subsist  between  men  of  honor.  I 
have  here  accidentally  read  a letter  which 
the  cipher  shows  to  have  been  intended  for 
our  trusty  friend  Memnon ; but,  since  the 
subject  is  no  longer  confined  to  himself,  he 
will  doubtless  feel  no  objection  to  indulging 
us  all  with  the  correspondence.” 

The  band  thronged  round  the  table ; ex- 
pectation sat  on  every  face  ; and  its  various 
expression  in  the  crowded  circle  of  those 
strong  physiognomies-— the  keen,  the  wander* 


116 


Salathiel. 


ing,  the  angry,  the  contemptuous,  the  con- 
vinced, the  triumphant — would  have  made 
an  incomparable  study  for  a painter.  The 
Egyptian  took  the  letter  with  a trembling 
hand,  and  read  the  fatal  words. 

“The  fleet  will  be  off  the  northern  pro- 
montory by  midnight.  You  will  light  a sig- 
nal, and  be  ready  to  conduct  the  troops  into 
the  cavern.” 

The  reader  let  the  fatal  despatch  fall  from 
his  hand.  An  outcry  of  wrath  rose  on  all 
sides;  and  the  traitor  was  on  the  point  of 
being  sacrificed,  when  the  young  Idumean 
generously  started  forward. 

“ It  is  known,  I believe,  to  every  man  here,” 
said  he,  “ that  I dislike  and  distrust  Memnon 
as  much  as  any  being  on  earth.  I know  him 
to  be  base  and  cruel,  and  therefore  hated  him. 
1 have  long  suspected  him  of  being  connected 
with  transactions,  that  nothing  but  the  mad- 
ness of  avarice  could  venture  upon,  and  noth- 
ing but  death  atone.  But  he  must  not  perish 
without  a trial.  Till  inquiry  is  made,  the  man 
who  strikes  him  must  strike  through  me.”  He 
placed  himself  before  the  culprit;  who  now 
taking  courage,  long  and  dexterously  in- 
sisted that  the  letter  was  a forgery,  invent- 
ed by  “assassins  and  those  who  employed 
assassins.” 

The  tide  of  popular  wisdom  is  easily  turn- 
ed ; opinion  was  now  raging  against  me,  and 
the  Egyptian  stood  a fair  chance  of  seeing  his 
reputation  cleaved  in  my  blood. 

“Come,”  said  the  captain,  rising;  “as  we 
are  not  likely  to  gain  much  information  from 
the  living,  let  us  see  whether  the  dead  can 
give  us  any : lead  on,  prisoners.” 

I led  the  way  to  the  recess.  The  dead 
man  lay  untouched ; but,  in  the  interval,  the 
features  had  returned,  as  is  often  the  case  in 
death,  to  the  expression  of  former  years.  I 
uttered  an  exclamation  ; he  was  the  domestic 
that  had  betrayed  me  to  the  Procurator. 

“ Conscience  !”  cried  the  Egyptian. 

“ Conscience  !”  echoed  the  crowd. 

The  captain  turned  to  me.  “ Did  either 
you  or  your  companion  commit  this  murder? 
I will  have  no  long  stories.  They  will  not 
go  down  with  tne.  The  fellow  was  a villain  ; 
and  if  he  had  lived  till  my  return,  he  should 
have  fed  the  crows  within  the  next  twelve 
hours.  One  word — yes  or  no.” 

I answered  firmly. 

“ I believe  you,”  said  the  captain.  He 
took  the  hand  of  the  corpse,  and  called  to  the 
Egyptian.  “Take  this  hand,  arid  swear  that 
you  know  nothing  of  this  treason.  But,  ah  ! 
what  have  we  here'!”  As  he  lifted  the  arm, 
the  sleeve  of  the  tunic  gave  way,  and  a slip 
of  papyrus  fell  on  the  bed.  He  caug'ht  it  up, 
and  exclaiming,  “ What ! to  night?  perni- 
cious villain ;” — turned  to  the  astonished 
band. 


“Comrades,  there  is  the  blackest  treachery 
among  us.  We  are  sold — sold  by  that 
accursed  Egyptian.  Strip  the  slave,  and  fling 
him  into  the  dungeon  until  I return  ; no — he 
shall  come  with  us,  in  chains.  Call  up  the 
bands.  Every  galley  must  be  put  to  sea  in- 
stantly, if  we  would  not  be  burned  in  our 
beds.” 

The  trumpets  sounded  through  the  cavern; 
and  rapid  preparations  were  made  for  obey- 
ing this  unexpected  command.  The  fires 
blazed  again;  arms  and  armor  rang;  men 
were  mustered ; and  the  galleys  swung  out 
from  their  moorings  in  the  midst  of  tumult 
and  volleys  of  execrations  against  the  treach- 
ery, that  “ could  not  wait  for  daylight  and 
fair  weather.” 

“And  now,”  said  the  captain,  “ while  our 
lads  are  getting  ready,  I think  that  it  is  time 
for  me  to  sup.  Sit  down  and  let  us  hear  over 
our  wine  what  story  the  prisoners  have  to 
tell.” 

I briefly  stated  our  escape  from  the  dun- 
geon. 

“ It  may  be  a lie  ; yet  the  thing  hangs  not 
badly  together.  Your  wardrobe  speaks  pro- 
digiously in  favor  of  your  veracity.  Ho ! 
Ben  Ali,  see  that  the  avenue  into  the  ware- 
house is  stopped  up.  We  must  have  no 
visits  from  the  garrison  of  the  tower.  And 
now,  hear  tny  story  of  the  night -As  I was 
lying  off  and  on,  waiting  to  catcli  that  cursed 
galley,  a correspondent  on  shore  let  me  partly 
into  the  secret  of  that  Egyptian  dog’s  deal- 
ings. Rich  as  the  knave  was, — and  how  he 
came  by  his  money,  Tartarus  only  knows, — 
Roman  gold  had  charms  for  him  still.  In 
fact,  he  had  been  carrying  on  a very  hand- 
some trade  in  information  during  the  last  six 
months;  which  may  best  account  for  the  es- 
cape of  the  two  fleets  from  Byzantium,  and 
not  less  for  the  present,  safety  of  the  procura- 
tor’s plate ; which,  however,  I hope,  by  the 
blessing  of  Neptune,  to  see,  before  another 
week,  shining  upon  this  table.  Your  dis- 
covery was  of  infinite  use.  That  an  attack 
upon  us  was  intended,  I was  aware;  but  the 
how  and  when  were  the  difficulty.  The 
time  of  the  attack  was  announced  in  the 
papyrus ; and  but  for  the  storm,  we  should 
probably  be  now  doing  other  things  than  sup- 
ping.” 

“The  sea  is  going  down  already,  and  the 
wind  has  changed,”  said  the  Arab.  “We 
can  haul  off  the  shore  without  loss  of  time.” 

“ Then,  the  sooner  the  better.  We  must 
seal  up  the  Romans  in  their  port;  or  if  they 
venture  out  on  such  a night,  give  them  sound 
reason  for  wishing  that  they  had  stayed  at 
home.  Their  galleys,  if  good  for  nothing 
else,  will  do  to  burn.” 

This  bold  determination  was  received  with 
a general  cheer : the  leaders  rose,  and  drank 


Salathiel. 


117 


to  the  glory  of  their  expedition;  and  all 
rushed  towards  the  galleys,  which,  crowd- 
ed with  men,  lay  tossing  at  the  edge  of  the 
arch. 

I followed  and  demanded  what  was  to  be 
our  fate.  “ Here  we  will  not  stay : put  us 
to  death  at  once,  rather  than  leave  us  to  per- 
ish here.” 

“ Well,  then,  what  will  you  have!” 

“Any  thing  but  this  desperate  abandon- 
ment. Let  us  take  the  chances  of  your  voy- 
age, and  be  set  on  shore  at  the  first  place  you 
touch.” 

“ And  sell  our  secret  to  the  best  bidder  ! 
No.  But  I have  no  time  to  make  terms  with 
you  now.  One  word  for  all : ragged  as  you 
both  are,  you  are  strong;  and  your  faces 
would  do  no  great  discredit  to  our  profession. 
You  probably  think  this  no  very  striking 
compliment,”  said  he  laughing.  “ However, 
I have  taken  a whim  to  have  you  with  us, 
and  offer  you  promotion.  Will  you  take 
service  with  the  noble  company  of  the  Free- 
trade  !” 

Jubal  was  rashly  indignant;  I checked 
him,  and  merely  answered,  that  I had  pur- 
poses of  extreme  exigency  which  prevented 
my  excepting  his  offer. 

“ Ha ! morality,”  exclaimed  he ; “ you  will 
not  be  seen  with  rogues  like  us  1”  He  laugh- 
ed aloud.  “ Why,  man,  if  you  will  not  live, 
eat,  drink,  travel,  and  die,  with  rogues,  where 
upon  earth  can  you  expect  to  live  or  die"!  the 
difference  between  us  and  the  world  is,  that 
we  do  the  thing  without  the  additional  vice 
of  hypocrisy.” 

The  leaders  who  waited  round  us,  felt  for 
the  honor  of  their  calling ; and,  but  for  the 
awe  of  the  captain,  we  stood  but  a slight 
chance  of  living  even  to  hear  the  question 
settled. 

“ A pike  might  let  a little  light  into  their 
understandings,”  said  one. 

“ If  they  would  not  follow  on  the  deck, 
they  should  swim  at  the  stern,”  said  ano- 
ther. 

“The  hermits  should  be  sent  back  to 
their  dungeon  to  study  philosophy,”  said  a 
third. 

The  boat  was  run  up  on  the  sand.  “ Get 
in,”  said  the  captain.  “ I have  taken  it  into 
my  head  to  convince  you  by  fact,  of  the  honor, 
dignity,  and  primitiveness  of  our  profession  : 
which  is,  in  the  first  place,  the  oldest;  for  it 
was  the  orignal  employment  of  human  hands. 
In  the  next  place,  the  most  universal ; for 
it  is  the  principal  of  all  trades,  pursuits 
and  professions,  from  the  emperor  on  his 
throne,  down  through  the  doctor,  the  lawyer, 
and  the  merchant,  to  the  very  sediment  of 
society.” 

A loud  “ bravo”  echoed  through  the  cav- 

ern. 


“Are  you  not  convinced  yeti”  said  the 
captain.  “ The  Free-trade  is  the  very  es- 
sence of  the  virtues ; all  the  teachers  of 
your  philosophy  are  dumb  to  it.  For  exam- 
ple ; I meet  a merchantman  loaded  with 
goods — for  what  is  the  cargo  meant  ! To 
purchase  slaves ; to  tear  fathers  from  their 
families — husbands  from  their  wives;  to  burn 
villages;  and  bribe  savages  to  murder  each 
other.  I strip  the  hold  ; the  slave  market 
is  at  an  end : and  no  one  suffers,  but  a 
fellow  who  ought  to  have  been  hanged  long 
ago.” 

The  captain’s  doctrine  w'as  more  popular 
than  ever. 

“ I meet  a rich  old  rogue,”  continued  he, 
“ on  his  voyage  between  the  islands.  What 
is  he  going  to  do!  To  marry  some  pretty 
creature,  who  has  a young  lover,  perhaps  a 
dozen.  The  marriage  would  break  her 
heart ; and  raise  a little  rebellion  in  the  isl- 
and. We  capture  the  old  Cupid,  strip  him 
of  his  coin,  and  he  is  a Cupid  no  more,  fa- 
thers and  mothers  abhor  him  at  once;  the 
young  lover  has  his  bride ; and  the  old  one 
his  lesson.  The  one  gets  his  love,  and  the 
other  his  experience;  and  both  have  to  thank 
the  gallant  crew  of  the  Scorpion ; which 
Heaven  long  keep  above  water.” 

A joyous  huzza,  and  the  waving  of  caps 
and  swords,  hailed  the  captain’s  display. 
“ The  Free-trade  forever,”  was  shouted  in  all 
directions. 

“ I see,  comrades,”  said  the  captain,  “ that 
though  truth  is  persuasive,  your  huzza  is  not 
for  me,  but  for  fact.  We  find  a young  rake 
ranging  the  world  with  more  money  than 
brains,  sowing  sedition  among  the  fair  rivals 
for  the  honor  of  sharing  his  purse ; running 
away  with  daughters;  gambling  greater  fools 
than  himself  out  of  their  fortunes;  in  short, 
playing  the  profligate  in  all  shapes.  He  drops 
into  our  hands ; and  we  strip  him  to  the 
last  penny.  What  is  the  consequence ! we 
make  him  virtuous  on  the  spot.  The  profli- 
gate becomes  a model  of  penitence  ; the  root 
of  all  his  ills  has  been  unearthed;  the  prodi- 
gal is  saving  ; the  bacchanal  temperate  ; the 
seducer  lives  in  the  innocence  of  a babe;  the 
gambler  never  touches  a die.  We  have 
broken  the  main-spring  of  his  vices — money ; 
disarmed  the  soft  deceiver  of  his  spell — 
money ; checked  the  infection  of  the  gam- 
bler’s example,  by  cutting  off  the  source  of 
the  disease — money  ; or,  if  nothing  can  teach 
him  common  sense,  our  dungeon  will  at  least 
keep  him  out  of  harm’s  way. 

“ And  now,  my  heroes  of  salt-water,  noble 
brothers  of  the  Nereids,  sons  of  the  star-light, 
here  I make  libation  to  our  next  merry  meet- 
ing.” He  poured  a part  of  his  cup  into  the 
wave,  and  drank  to  the  general  health,  with 
the  remainder. 


118 


Salathiel. 


“ Happiness  to  all ; let  our  work  to-night 
be  what  it  will,  I know,  my  lads,  that  it  will 
be  handsomely  done.  The  enemy  may  call 
us  names;  but  you  will  answer  them  by 
solid  proofs,  that  whatever  we  may  be,  we 
are  neither  slaves  nor  dastards.  If  I catch 
the  insolent  commander  of  the  Roman  fleet, 
I will  teach  him  a lesson  in  morals  that  he 
never  knew  before.  He  shall  flog,  fleece, 
and  torture  no  more.  I will  turn  the  hard- 
heartuu  tyrant  into  tenderness  from  top  to 
toe.  11  is  treatment  of  the  crew  of  the  Hy- 
aena was  infamous ; and  by  Jupiter,  what  1 
owe  him  shall  be  discharged  in  full.  Now, 
on  board,  my  heroes,  and  may  Neptune  take 
care  of  you.” 

The  trumpets  flourished ; the  people  cheer- 
ed; the  boats  pushed  off;  the  galleys  hoisted 
every  sail ; and  in  a moment  we  found  our- 
selves rushing  through  the  water,  under  the 
wildest  canopy  of  heaven. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

We  stretched  out  far  to  sea,  for  the  dou- 
ble purpose  of  falling  by  surprise  upon  the 
Roman  squadron,  and  avoiding  the  shoals. 
The  wind  lulled  at  intervals  so  much,  that 
we  had  recourse  to  our  oars;  it  would  then 
burst  down  with  a violence,  that  all  but  hurl- 
ed us  out  of  the  water.  I now  saw  more  of 
the  captain,  and  was  w'itnessof  the  extraordi- 
nary energy,  activity,  and  skill  of  this  singu- 
lar young  man.  Never  was  there  a more  ex- 
pert seaman.  For  every  change  of  sea  or 
wind,  he  had  a new  expedient:  and  when 
the  hearts  of  the  stoutest  sank,  he  took  the 
helm  into  his  hands,  and  carried  us  through 
the  chaos  of  waters,  foam,  whirlwind,  and 
lightning,  with  the  vigor  and  daring  of  one 
born  to  sport  with  the  storm. 

As  1 was  gazing  over  the  vessel’s  side,  on 
the  phosphoric  gleams  that  danced  along  the 
ridge  of  the  billows,  he  came  up  to  me. 

“I  am  sorry,”  said  he  “that  we  have  been 
compelled  to  give  you  so  rough  a specimen 
of  our  hospitality;  and  this  is  not  altogether 
a summer  sea;  but  you  saw  how  the  matter 
stood.  The  enemy  would  have  been  upon 
us;  and  the  whole  advantage  of  our  staying 
at  home,  would  be,  to  have  our  throats  cut 
in  company.” 

Odd  and  rambling  as  his  style  was,  there 
was  something  in  his  manner  and  voice  that 
had  struck  me  before,  even  in  the  boisterous- 
ness of  the  convivial  crowd.  But  now,  in  the 
solitary  ocean,  there  was  a melancholy  sweet- 
ness in  his  tones,  that  made  me  start  with 
sad  recollection.  Yet,  when  by  the  lightning 


I attempted  to  discover  in  his  features  any 
clue  to  memory,  and  saw  but  the  tall  figure 
wrapped  in  the  sailor’s  cloak,  the  hair  stream- 
ing over  his  face  in  the  spray,  and  every  line 
of  his  powerful  physiognomy  at  its  full  stretch 
in  the  agitation  of  the  time,  the  thought  van- 
ished again. 

“ I hinted,”  said  he,  after  an  interval  of 
silence,  “at  your  taking  chance  with  us.  If 
you  will,  you  may.  But  the  hint  was 
thrown  out  merely  Jo  draw  off  the  fellows 
about  me  ; and  you  are  at  full  liberty  to  for- 
get it.” 

“ It  is  impossible  to  join  you,”  was  my  an- 
swer ; “ my  life  is  due  to  my  country.” 

“ Oh  ! for  that  matter,  so  is  mine ; and  due 
a long  time  ago  : my  only  wonder  is,  how  I 
have  evaded,  payment  till  now.  But  I am  a 
man  of  few  words.  I have  taken  a sort  of 
liking  to  you,  and  would  wish  to  have  a few 
such  at  hand.  The  world  calls  me  villain, 
and  the  majority  of  course  carries  the  ques- 
tion. For  its  opinion,  I do  not  care  a cup  of 
water:  a bubble  of  this  foam  would  weigh  as 
heavy  with  me,  as  the  rambling,  giddy,  vul- 
gar judgment  of  a world  in  which  the  first 
of  talents  is  scoundrelism.  I never  knew  a 
man  fail,  who  brought  to  market  prostitution 
of  mind  enough  to  make  him  a tool ; vice 
enough  to  despise  every  thing  but  gain  ; and 
cunning  enough  to  keep  himself  out  of  the 
hands  of  the  magistrate,  till  opulence  enabled 
him  to  corrupt  the  law,  or  authority  to  defy 
it.  But  let  this  pass.  The  point  between 
jus  is,  will  you  take  service!” 
j “No! — I feel  the  strongest  gratitude  for 

the  manliness  and  generosity  of  your  pro- 
tection. You  saved  our  lives  ; and  our  only 
hope  of  revisiting  Judea  in  freedom  is 
through  you.  But,  young  man,  I have  a 
great  cause  in  hand.  I have  risked  every 
thing  for  it.  Family,  wealth,  rank,  life,  are 
at  stake;  and  I look  upon  every  hour  given 
to  other  things  as  so  far  a fraud  upon  my 
country.” 

I heard  him  sigh.  There  was  silence  on 
both  sides  for  a while,  and  he  paced  the 
deck;  then  suddenly  returning,  laid  his 
hand  on  my  shoulder.  “I  am  convinced  of 
your  honor,”  said  he,  “and  far  be  it  from  me 
to  betray  a man,  who  has  indeed  a purpose 
worthy  of  manhood,  into  our  broken  and  un- 
happy— aye,  let  the  word  come  out,  infa- 
mous career.  But  you  tell  me  that  I 
have  been  of  some  use  to  you ; I now  de- 
mand the  return.  You  have  refused  to 
take  service  with  me.  Let  me  take  ser- 
vice with  you.” 

I stared  at  him.  He  smiled  sadly,  and  said, 
“ You  will  not  associate  with  one  stained  like 
me.  Aye  ; for  the  robber  there  is  no  repen- 
tance. Yet  why  shall  the  world,”  and  his  voice 
was  full  of  anguish,  “ why  shall  the  ungener- 


Salathiel. 


ous  and  misjudging  world  be  suffered  to 
expel  and  keep  for  ever  at  a distance  those 
whom  it  has  first  betrayed  1”  His  emotion 
got  the  better  of  him  and  his  voice  sank.  He 
again  approached  me.  “I  am  weary  of  this 
kind  of  life.  Not  that  I have  reason  to  com- 
plain of  the  men  about  me ; nor  that  I dislike 
the  roaming  and  chances  of  the  sea  ; but,  that 
I feel  a desire  to  be  something  better — to  re- 
deem myself  out  of  the  number  of  the  dis- 
honored ; to  do  something  which,  whether  I 
live  or  die,  will  satisfy  me  that  I was  not 
meant  to  be — the  outcast  that  I am.” 

“Then  join  us  if  you  will,”  said  I.  Our 
cause  demands  the  bold  ; and  the  noblest  spirit 
that  ever  dwelt  in  man,  would  find  its  finest 
field  in  the  deliverance  of  our  land  of  holiness 
and  glory.  But,  can  you  leave  all  that  you 
have  round  you  here  1” 

“ Not  without  a struggle.  I have  an  infi- 
nite delight  in  this  wild  kind  of  existence.  T 
love  the  strong  excitement  of  hazard  ; I love 
the  perpetual  bustle  of  our  career;  I love  even 
the  capriciousness  of  wind  and  wave.  I havp 
wealth  in  return  for  its  perils;  and  no  man 
knows  what  enjoyment  is,  but  he  who  knows  it 
through  the  fatigue  of  a sailor’s  life.  All  the 
banquets  of  epicurism  are  not  half  so  delicious, 
as  even  the  simplest  meal,  to  his  hunger;  nor 
the  softest  bed  of  luxury,  half  so  refreshing 
as  the  bare  deck  to  his  weariness.  But  I must 
break  up  those  habits;  and,  whether  beggar 
and  slave,  or  soldier  and  obtaining  the  distinc- 
tion of  a soldier’s  success,  I am  determined 
on  trying  my  chance  among  mankind.” 

A sheet  of  lightning  covered  the  whole 
horizon  with  blue  flame;  and  a huge  ball  of 
fire  springing  from  the  cloud,  after  a long 
flight  over  the  waters,  split  upon  the  shore. 

The  keenness  of  the  sailor’s  eye  saw  what 
had  escaped  mine.  “This  was  a lucky  sea- 
light  for  us,”  said  he.  “ The  Romans  are  lying 
under  yonder  promontory ; driven  to  take  shel- 
ter by  the  gale,  of  course : — but  for  that  fire- 
ball, they  would  have  escaped  me.” 

All  hands  were  summoned  upon  deck;  sig- 
nals made  to  the  other  galleys ; the  little  fleet 
brought  into  close  order;  pikes,  torches,  and 
combu-tibles  of  all  kinds  gathered  upon  the 
poop;  the  sails  furled  ; and  with  muffled  oars 
we  gl  dpd  down  upon  the  enemy. 

The  Roman  squadron,  with  that  precaution 
which  was  the  essential  principle  of  their 
matchless  discipline,  were  drawn  up  in  order 
of  battle,  though  they  could  have  had  no  ex- 
pectation of  being  attacked  on  such  a night. 
But  the  roar  of  the  wind  buried  every  other 
sound,  and  we  stole  round  the  promontory  un- 
heard. 

The  short  period  of  this  silent  navigation 
was  one  of  the  keenest  anxiety.  All  but 
those  necessary  for  the  working  of  the  vessel 
were  lying  on  their  faces;  we  feared  lest  the 


very  drawing  of  our  breath  might  give  the 
alarm  ; not  a limb  was  moved,  and,  like  a gal- 
ley of  the  dead,  we  floated  on,  filled  with  de- 
struction. We  were  yet  at  some  distance 
from  the  twinkling  lights  that  showed  the 
prefect’s  trireme  ; when,  on  glancing  round,  I 
perceived  a dark  obj*  ct  on  the  water,  and 
pointed  it  out  to  the  captain.  He  looked,  but 
looked  in  vain. 

“ Some  irking  spy,”  said  he,  “ that  was 
born  to  pay  for  his  knowledge.”  With  a sail- 
or’s promptitude,  he  caught  up  a lamp,  and 
swung  it  overboard.  It  fell  beside  the  object, 
a small  boat  as  black  as  the  waves  them- 
selves. 

“ Now  for  the  sentinel,”  were  his  words, 
as  he  plunged  into  the  sea.  The  act  was 
rapid  as  thought.  I heard  a struggle,  a groan, 
and  the  boat  floated  empty  beside  me  on  the 
next  billow. 

But  there  was  no  time  for  search.  We 
were  within  an  oar’s  length  of  the  anchorage. 
To  communicate  the  loss  of  their  captain, 
(and  what  could  human  struggle  do  among 
the  mountain  waves  of  that  seal)  might  be 
to  dispirit  the  crew,  and  ruin  the  enterprize. 
I took  the  command  upon  myself,  and  gave 
the  word  to  fall  on. 

A storm  of  fire,  as  strange  to  the  enemy  as 
if  it  had  risen  from  the  bottom  of  the  sea,  was 
instantly  poured  on  the  advanced  ships.  The 
surprise  w’as  total.  The  crews,  exhausted  by 
the  night,  were  chiefly  asleep.  The  troops 
jon  board  were  helpless,  on  decks  covered  with 
] the  spray,  and  among  shrouds  and  sails  falling 
idown  in  burning  fragments  on  their  heads. — 
Our  shouts  gave  them  the  idea  of  being  at- 
tacked by  overwhelming  numbers;  and  after  a 
(short  dispute,  we  cleared  the  whole  outer  line 
of  every  sailor  and  soldier.  The  whole  was 
soon  a pile  of  flame,  a sea  volcano,  that  lighted 
skv,  sea,  and  shore. 

Yet  only  half  our  work  was  done.  The 
enemy  were  now  fully  awake,  and  no  man 
could  despise  Roman  preparation.  I ordered 
a fire-gallev  to  be  run  in  between  the  leading 
ship-;  but  she  was  caught  halfway  by  a chain, 
and  turned  round,  scattering  flame  among 
'ourselves.  The  boats  were  then  lowered, 
and  our  most  desperate  fellows  sent  to  cut 
out,  or  board.  But  the  crowded  decks  drove 
them  back,  and  the  Roman  pike  was  an  over- 
match for  our  short  falchions.  For  a while 
we  were  forced  to  content  ourselves  with  the 
distant  exchange  of  lances  and  arrows.  The 
affair  became  critical ; the  enemy  were  still 
three  times  our  force;  they  were  unmoor- 
ing ; and  our  only  chance  of  destroying 
them  was  at  anchor.  I called  the  crew  for- 
ward, and  proposed  that  we  should  run  the 
galley  close  on  the  prefect’s’  ship,  set  them 
both  on  fire,  and  in  the  confusion,  carry  the 
remaining  vessels.  But  sailors,  if  bold,  are 


Salat  hie L 


as  capricious  as  their  element.  Our  partial  re- 
pulse had  already  disheartened  them.  I was 
met  by  murmurs  and  clamors  for  the  captain. 
The  clamors  rose  into  open  charges  that  I had, 
to  get  the  command,  thrown  him  overboard. 

I was  alone.  Juba!,  worn  out  with  fatigue 
and  illness,  was  lying  at  my  feet,  more  re- 
quiring defence  than  able  to  afford  it.  The 
crowd  were  growing  furious  against  the 
stranger.  I felt  that  all  depended  on  the 
moment,  and  leaped  from  the  poop  into  the 
midst  of  the  mutineers. 

“ Fools,”  I exclaimed,  “ what  could  I get  by 
making  away  with  your  captain!  I have  no 
wish  for  your  command.  I have  no  want  of 
your  help.  I disdain  you: — bold  as  lions, 
over  the  table ; tame  as  sheep,  on  the  deck ; I 
leave  you  to  be  butchered  by  the  Romans. — 
Let  the  brave  follow  me,  if  such  there  be 
among  you.” 

A shallop,  that  had  returned  with  the  de- 
feated boarders,  lay  by  the  galley’s  side.  T 
seized  a torch.  Fiight  or  ten,  roused  by  my 
taunts,  followed  me  into  the  boat.  We  pulled 
right  for  the  Roman  centre.  Every  man  had 
a torch  in  one  hand,  and  an  oar  in  the  other. 
We  shot  along  the  waters,  a flying  mass  of 
flame ; and  while  both  fleets  were  gazing  on 
us  in  astonishment,  rushed  under  the  poop  of 
the  commander’s  trireme.  The  fire  soon 
rolled  up  her  tarry  sides,  and  ran  along  the 
cordage.  But  the  defence  was  desperate,  and 
lances  rained  upon  us.  Half  of  us  were  dis- 
abled in  the  first  discharge;  the  shallop  was 
battered  with  huge  stones ; and  I felt  that 
she  was  sinking. 

“One  trial  more,  brave  comrades,  one  glo- 
rious attempt  more  ! The  boat  must  go  down  ; 
ana  unless  we  would  go  along  with  it,  we 
must  board.” 

I leaped  forward,  and  clung  to  the  chains. 
My  example  was  followed.  The  boat  went 
down;  and  this  sight,  which  was  just  discov-j 
erable  by  the  vivid  flame  of  the  vessel,  raised 
a roar  of  triumph  among  the  enemy.  But  to 
climb  up  the  tall  sides  of  the  trireme  was  be- 
yond our  skill,  and  we  remained  dashed  by 
the  heavy  waves  as  she  rose  and  fell.  Our 
only  alternatives  now  were,  to  be  piked, 
drowned,  or  burned.  The  flame  was  rapidly 
advancing.  Showers  of  sparkles  fell  upon 
our  heads ; the  clamps  and  iron  work  were 
growing  hot  to  the  touch;  the  smoke  was  roll- 
ing over  us  in  suffocating  volumes.  I was 
giving  up  all  for  lost;  when  a mountainous 
billow  swept  the  vessel,  stern  round,  and  I 
saw  a blaze  burst  out  from  the  shore.  The 
Roman  tents  were  on  flame! 

Consternation  seized  the  crews  thus  at- 
tacked on  all  sides,  and  uncertain  of  the  num- 
ber of  the  assailants'  they  began  to  desert  the 
ships,  and,  by  boats  or  swimming,  make  for 
various  parts  of  the  land.  The  sight  reani- 


mated me.  I climbed  up  the  side  of  the  tri- 
reme, torch  in  hand,  and  with  my  haggard 
countenance,  made  still  wilder  by  the  wild 
work  of  the  night,  looked  a formidable  appa- 
rition to  men  already  harassed  out  of  all  cou- 
rage. They  plunged  overboard,  and  I was 
monarch  of  the  finest  war  galley  on  the  coast 
of  Syria. 

But  my  kingdom  was  without  subjects. — 
None  of  my  own  crew  had  followed  me.  I 
saw  the  pirate  vessels  bearing  down  to  com- 
plete the  destruction  of  the  fleet;  and  hailed 
them,  but  they  all  swept  far  wide  of  the  tri- 
reme. The  fire  had  taken  too  fast  hold  of 
her  to  make  approach  safe.  I now  began  to 
feel  my  situation.  The  first  triumph  was 
past,  and  I found  myself  deserted.  The  deed 
of  devastation  was  in  the  mean  while  rapidly 
going  on.  I saw  the  Roman  ships  successively 
boarded,  almost  without  resistance,  and  in  a 
blaze.  The  conflagration  rose  in  sheets  and 
spires  to  the  heavens,  and  colored  the  waters 
to  an  immeasurable  extent  with  the  deepest 
dye  of  gore. 

I heard  the  victorious  shouts,  and  mine  rose 
spontaneously  along  with  them.  In  every 
vessel  burned,  in  every  torch  flung,  I rejoiced 
in  a new  blow  to  the  tyrants  of  Judea.  But 
my  thoughts  were  soon  fear  ully  brought  home. 
The  fire  reached  the  cables;  the  trireme, 
plungingand  tossing  like  a living  creature  in 
its  last  agony,  burst  away  from  her  anchors: 
the  wind  was  off  the  shore ; a gust,  strong  as 
the  blow  of  a battering-ram,  struck  her;  and 
on  the  back  of  a huge  refluent  wave,  she  shot 
out  to  sea,  a flying  pyramid  of  fire. 

Never  was  a man  more  indifferent  to  the 
result  than  the  solitary  voyager  of  the  burn- 
ing trireme.  What  had  life  forme!  Ilooked 
at  pain  with  instinctive  dread  ; but  the  waves 
offered  a ready  refuge  from  the  more  hideous 
suffering,  and  a single  plunge  in  the  whirling 
foam  at  my  side  would  be  the  complete  and 
instant  cure  of  all  the  pangs  that  besiege  the 
flesh.  I gazed  round  me.  The  element  of 
fire  reigned  supreme.  The  shore — mountain, 
vale,  and  sand — was  bright  as  day,  from  the 
blaze  of  the  tents,  and  floating  fragments  of 
the  galleys.  The  heavens  were  an  arch  of 
angry  splendor — every  stooping  cloud  that 
swept  along,  reddened  with  the  various  dies  of 
the  conflagration  below.  The  sea  was  a rolling 
abyss  of  the  fiercest  color  of  slaughter.  The 
blazing  vessels,  loosened  from  the  shore, 
rushed  madly  before  the  storm,  sheet  and 
shroud  shaking  loose  abroad,  like  vast  wings 
of  flame. 

At  length  all  disappeared  ; the  shore  faded1 
far  into  a dim  line  of  light;  the  galleys  sank 
or  were  consumed  ; the  sea  grew  dark  again; 
j the  lightnings  were  the  only  blaze  of  heaven. 
But  the  trireme,  strongly  built,  and  of  im- 
mense size,  still  fed  the  flame,  and  still  shot 


Salathiel. 


on  through  the  tempest,  that  fell  on  her  more  j 
furiously  as  she  lust  the  cover  of  the  land. — 
The  waves  rose  to  a height  that  often  baffled 
the  wind,  and  left  me  floating  in  a strange 
calm  between  two  black  walls  of  water,  reach- 
ing to  the  clouds,  and  on  whose  smooth  sides 
the  image  of  the  burning  vessel  was  reflected 
as  strongly  as  in  a mirror.  But  the  ascent  to  j 
the  summit  of  those  fearful  barriers  again  let 
in  the  storm  in  its  rage ; the  tops  of  the  bil- 
lows were  whirled  off  in  sheets  of  foam ; the 
wind  tore  mast  and  sail  away ; and  the  vessel 
was  dashed  forward  like  a stone  discharged 
from  an  engine.  I stood  on  the  poop,  which 
the  spray  and  the  wind  kept  clear  of  flame, 
and  contemplated,  with  some  feeling  of  the 
fierce  grandeur  of  the  spectacle,  the  fire  roll- 
ing over  the  forward  part  of  the  vessel  in  a 
thousand  shapes  and  folds. 

While  I was  thus  careering  along,  like  the 
genius  of  fire  upon  his  throne,  I caught  a 
glimpse  of  sails  scattering  in  every  direction 
before  me — 1 had  rushed  into  the  middle  of  one 
of  those  small  trading  fleets  that  coasted  an- 
nually between  the  Euxine  and  the  Nile. — 
They  flew  as  if  pursued  by  a fiend.  But  the 
i same  wind  that  bore  them,  bore  me;  and  their 
screams,  as  the  trireme  bounded  from  billow 
to  billow  on  their  track,  were  audible  even 
through  the  roarings  of  the  storm. 

They  gradually  succeeded  in  spreading 
themselves  so  far,  that  the  contact  with  the 
flame  must  be  partial.  But,  on  one,  the 
largest  and  most  crowded,  the  trireme  bore 
inevitably  down.  The  hunted  ship  tried  ev- 
ery mode  of  escape  in  vain;  it  manoeuvred  with 
extraordinary  skill : but  the  pursuer,  lightened 
of  every  burden,  rushed  on  like  a messenger 
of  vengeance. 

I could  distinctly  see  the  confusion  and  mis- 
ery of  the  crowd  that  covered  the  deck  ; men 
and  women  kneeling,  weeping,  dying ; or  in 
the  fierce  riot  of  despair,  struggling  for  some 
wretched  spoil,  or  equally  wretched  indul-i 
gence,  thata  few  moments  more  must  tear  from 
all  alike.  But  among  the  fearful  minglingof 
sou  nds,  one  voice  I heard  that  struck  to  my  soul.  I 
It  alone  roused  me  from  my  stern  scorn  of  hu- 1 
man  suffering.  I no  longer  looked  upon  those 
beings  as  upon  insects  that  must  be  crushed 
in  the  revolution  of  the  great  wheel  of  fate. 
The  heart,  the  living  human  heart,  palpita  ted 
ii  within  me.  I rushed  to  the  side  of  the  tri- 
e.  reme,  and  with  voice  and  hand  made  signals 
ii  to  the  crew  to  take  me  on  board. 

Butat  my  call  a cry  of  agony  echoed  through 
the  vessel.  All  fled  to  its  farther  part,  but  a 
si  few,  who,  unable  to  move,  were  seen  dropton 
ill  their  knees,  and  in  the  attitudes  of  preternat- 
n ural  fear,  imploring  every  power  of  heaven. 

>a  Shocked  by  the  consciousness  that,  even  in 
u l the  hour  when  mutual  hazard  softens  the  heart 
jc  of  man,  I was  an  object  of  horror,  I shrank 


back.  I heard  the  voice  once  more ; and 
once  more  resolved  to  make  an  effort  for  life ; 
flung  a burning  fragment  over  the  side,  to 
help  me  through  the  waves. 

But  the  time  was  past.  The  fragment  had 
scarcely  touched  the  foam,  when  a sheet  of 
lightning  wrapped  sea  and  sky;  the  flying  ves- 
sel was  gone.  My  eye  looked  but  upon  the  wil- 
dernessof  waters.  The  flash  was  fatal  to  both. 
It  had  struck  the  hold  of  the  trireme,  in  which 
was  stowed  a large  freightage  of  the  bitumen 
and  nitre  of  the  desert.  A column  of  flame, 
white  as  silver,  rose  straight  and  steadily  up 
to  the  clouds;  and  the  huge  ship,  disparting 
timber  by  timber,  reeled,  heaved,  and  plunged 
headlong  into  the  bosurn  of  the  ocean. 

1 rose  to  the  surface  from  a prodigious  depth. 
I was  nearly  breathless.  My  limbs  were 
wasted  with  famine  and  fatigue  ; but  the  tos- 
sing of  the  surges  sustained  and  swept  me  on. 
The  chill  at  last  benumbed  me,  and  my  limbs 
were  heavy  as  iron ; when  a broken  mast  roll- 
ing by,  entangled  me  in  its  cordage.  It  drove 
towards  a point  of  land  round  which  the  cur- 
rent swept.  Strongly  netted  in  the  wreck,  I 
was  dragged  along,  sometimes  above  the  wa- 
ter, sometimes  below.  But  a violent  shock 
released  me,  and,  with  a new  terror  of  the 
death  that  I had  so  long  resisted,  I felt  myself 
go  down.  I was  engulphed  in  the  whirlpool ! 

Every  sensation  was  horridly  vivid.  I had 
the  full  consciousness  of  life,  and  of  the  un- 
fathomable depth  into  which  I was  descend- 
ing. I heard  the  roar  and  rushing  of  the  wa- 
ters round  me ; the  holding  of  my  breath  was 
torture ; I strained,  struggled,  tossed  out  my 
arms,  grasped  madly  around,  as  if  to  catch 
something  that  might  retard  my  hideous  de- 
scent. My  eyes  were  open.  I never  was 
less  stunned  by  shock  or  fear.  The  solid 
darkness,  the  suffocation,  the  furious  whirl  of 
the  eddy  that  spun  me  round  its  huge  circle 
like  an  atom  of  sand,  every  sense  of  drown- 
ing, passed  through  my  shattered  frame  with 
an  individual  and  successive  pang. 

I at  last  touched  something,  whether  living 
or  dead,  fish  or  stone,  I know  not ; but  the  im- 
pulse changed  my  direction,  and  I was  darted 
up  to  the  surface. 

The  storm  had  gone  with  the  rapidity  of 
the  south.  The  stars  burned  brightly  blue 
above  my  head.  The  pleasant  breath  of 
groves  and  flowery  perfumes  came  on  the 
waters.  A distant  sound  of  sweet  voices 
lingered  on  the  air.  Like  one  roused  from  a 
frightful  dream,  I could  scarcely  believe  that 
this  was  reality.  But  the  rolling  waters  be- 
hind gave  me  sudden  evidence.  A billow, 
the  last  messenger  of  the  storm,  burst  into 
the  little  bay,  filled  it  to  the  brim  with  foam, 
and  tossed  me  far  forward.  It  rolled  back, 
dragging  with  it  the  sedge  and  pebbles  of  the 
beach,  with  an  enc;mous  noise.  I grasped 


122 


Salathiel. 


the  trunk  of  an  olive,  rough  and  firm  as  the  rock  itself. 
The  retiring  wave  left  me;  I felt  my  way  some  paces 
among  the  trees  ; I cast  myself  down,  and  worn  out  with 
fatigue,  had  scarcely  touched  the  earth,  when  I fell  into 
that  profound  sleep  which  is  the  twin  brother  of  death. 

I awoke  in  the  decline  of  the  day,  as  I 
could  perceive  by  the  yellow  and  orange 
hues  that  colored  the  thick  branches  above 
me.  I was  lying-  in  a delicious  recess, 
crowded  with  fruit  trees;  my  bed  was  the  turf, 
but  it  was  soft  as  down  ; a solitary  nightingale 
above  my  head  was  sending  forth  snatches  of 
that  melody,  which  night  prolongs  into  the 
very  voice  of  sweetness  and  sorrow ; and  a 
balmy  air  from  the  wild  thyme  and  blossoms 
of  the  rose  breathed  soothingly  even  to  the 
mind. 

I had  been  thrown  on  one  of  the  little  isles 
that  lie  off  Anthoedon,  a portion  of  the  Phi- 
listine territory,  before  it  was  won  by  our 
tiero  Maccaboeus.  The  commerce  which 
once  filled  the  arm  of  the  sea  near  Gaza,  pe- 
rished in  the  change  of  masters,  and  silence 
and  seclusion  reigned  in  a spot  formerly 
echoing  with  the  tumult  of  merchant  and 
mariner.  The  little  isle,  the  favorite  re- 
treat of  the  opulent  Greek  and  Syrian  traders 
in  the  overpowering  heats  of  summer,  and 
cultivated  with  the  lavish  expenditure  of  com- 
mercial taste,  now  gave  no  proof  of  its  ever 
having  felt  the  font  of  man,  but  in  the  sponta- 
neous pouring  out  of  flowers,  once  brought 
from  every  region  of  the  East  and  West,  and 
the  exquisite  fruits  that  still  enriched  its 
slopes  and  dells. 

In  all  things  else,  nature  had  resumed  her 
rights;  the  pavilions,  the  temples  of  Parian 
and  Numidian  stone,  were  in  ruins,  and  bu- 
ried under  a carpet  of  roses  and  myrtles. 
The  statues  left  but  here  and  there  a remnant 
of  thems'dves,  a sublime  relic  wreathed  over 
in  fantastic  spirals  bv  the  clematis  ^nd  other 
climbing  plants.  The  sculptured  fountain 
let  its  waters  loose  over  the  ground  ; and  the 
guardian  genius  that  hung  in  marble  beauty 
over  the  spring,  had  long  since  resigned  his 
charge,  and  lay  mutilated  and  discolored 
with  the  air  and  the  dew.  But  the  spring- 
still  gushed,  bounding  blight  between  the 
gray  fissures  of  the  cliff,  and  marking  its 
course  through  the  plain  by  the  richer  mazes 
of  creen. 

To  me,  who  was  as  weary  of  existence  as 
ever  was  galley-slave,  this  spot  of  quiet  love- 
liness had  a tenfold  power.  My  mind,  like 
mv  body,  longed  for  rest. 

Through  life  I had  walked  in  a thorny 
path.  I had  winged  a tempestuous  atmos- 
phere. Useless  hazards,  wild  projects,  bit- 
ter sufferings,  were  mv  portion.  My  affec- 
tions, those  feelingsin  which  alonel  could  be 
said  to  live,  had  been  made  inlets  of  pain. 
The  love  which  nature  and  justice  won  from 
me  to  tny  family,  was  perpetually  thwarted 


by  a chain  of  circumstances  that  made  me  a 
wretched,  helpless,  and  solitary  man.  What 
then  could  I do  better  than  abandon  the  idle 
hope  of  finding  happiness  among  mankind, 
break  off  the  trial  which  must  be  prolonged 
only  to  my  evil,  and  elude  the  fate  that  des- 
tined me  to  be  an  exile  in  the  world  ! Yes! 
1 would  no  longer  be  a man  of  suffering  in 
the  presence  of  its  happiness;  a wretch 
stripped  of  an  actua‘1  purpose  or  a solid  hope 
in  the  midst  of  its  activity  and  triumph;  the 
abhorred  example  of  a career  miserable  with 
defeated  pursuit,  and  tantalized  with  expec- 
tations, vain  as  the  bubble  on  the  stream  ! 

In  this  stern  resolve,  gathering  a courage 
from  despair, — as  the  criminal  standing  on 
the  scaffold  scoffs  at  the  world  that  rejects 
him, — 1 determined  to  exclude  recollection. 
The  spot  round  me  was  to  fill  up  the  whole 
measure  of  my  thoughts.  Wife,  children, 
friend,  country,  to  me,  must  exist  no  more, 
f imaged  them  in  the  tomb;  I talked  with 
them  as  shadows,  as  the  graceful  and  lovely 
existences  of  ages  past;  but  labored  to  di- 
vest ihem  of  the  individual  features  that  cling 
to  the  soul. 

Lest  this  mystic  repose  should  be  disturbed 
by  any  of  the  sights  of  living  man,  1 withdrew 
deeper  into  the  shades  which  first  sheltered 
me.  It  was  enough  for  me  that  there  was  a 
canopy  of  leaves  above  to  shield  my  limbs 
from  the  casual  visitations  of  a sky,  whose  sap- 
phire looked  scarcely  capable  of  a stain,  and 
that  the  turf  was  soft  for  my  couch.  Fruits, 
sufficient  to  tempt  the  most  luxurious  taste, 
were  falling  round,  and  the  waters  of  the 
bright  rivulet,  scooped  in  the  rind  of  citron 
and  orange,  wore  a draught  that  the  epicure 
might  envy.  I was  utterly  ignorant  on  what 
shore  of  the  Mediterranean  I was  thrown, 
farther  than  that  the  sun  rose  behind  my 
bower,  and  threw  his  western  lustre  on  the 
waveless  expanse  of  sea  that  spread  before 
it  to  the  round  horizon. 

But  no  man  can  be  a philosopher  against 
nature.  With  my  strength,  the  desire  of  ex- 
ertion returned.  My  most  voluptuous  rest 
became  irksome.  Memory  would  not  he  re- 
strained ; the  flood-gate  of  thought  opened 
once  more;  and  to  resist  the  passion  for  the 
world,  I was  driven  to  the  drudgery  of  the 
hands.  I gathered  wood  for  the  winter’s  fuel 
in  the  midst,  of  days  when  the  sun  poured  fire 
from  the  heavens;  I attempted  to  build  a hut 
beside  grottoes  that  a hermit  would  love;  I 
trained  trees,  and  cultivated  flowers,  where 
the  soil  threw  out  all  that  was  rich  in  both 
with  exhaustiess  prodigality. 

But,  no  expedient  would  appease  the  pas- 
sion for  the  ab-orbing  business  of  the  world. 
My  bower  lost  its  enchantment;  the  delight 
of  lying  on  beds  of  violet,  and,  with  my  eyes 


Salathiel. 


fixed  on  the  heavens,  wandering  away  on 
the  wings  of  fantastic  illusion,  palled  upon 
me;  the  colors  of  the  vision  grew  dim  : I no 
more  imaged  shapes  of  beauty  winging  their 
way  through  the  celestial  azuie;  I heard  no 
harmonies  of  spirits  on  the  midnight  winds; 
I followed  no  longer  the  sun,  rushing  on  its 
golden  chariot  wheels  to  lands  unstained  by 
human  step;  or  plunged  with  him  into  the 
depths,  and  ranged  the  secret  wonders  of  ocean. 

Labor,  in  its  turn,  grew  irksome.  I re- 
proached myself  for  the  vulgar  existence 
which  occupied  only  the  inferior  portion  of 
my  nature;  living  only  for  food,  sleep,  and 
shelter,  what  was  I better  than  the  seals  that 
basked  on  the  shore  at  my  feet]  Night,  too, 
— that  mysterious  rest  interposed  for  purposes 
of  such  varied  beneficence — to  cool  the  brain 
fevered  by  the  bustle  of  the  day — to  soften 
mutual  hostility  by  a pause,  to  which  all 
alike  must  yield — to  remind  our  forgetful  na- 
ture, by  a perpetual  semblance,  of  the  time 
when  all  things  must  pass  away,  and  be  si- 
lent, and  change — to  sit  in  judgment  on  our 
hearts,  and,  by  a decision  which  no  hypocrisy 
can  disguise,  anticipate  the  punishment  of 
the  villian,  as  it  gives  the  man  of  virtue  the 
foretaste  of  his  reward, — night  began  to  ex- 
ert its  old  influence  over  me ; and,  with  the 
strongest  determination  to  think  no  more  of 
what  had  been,  I closed  my  eyes  but  to  let 
.n  the  past.  I might  have  said,  that  my  true 
sleep  was  during  the  labors  of  the  day;  and 
my  waking,  when  I lay  with  my  senses 
sealed,  upon  my  bed  of  leaves. 

It  is  impossible  to  shut  up  the  mind,  and  I 
at  last  abandoned  the  struggle.  The  spell  of 
indolence  once  broken,  I became  as  restless 
as  an  eagle  in  a cage.  My  first  object  was 
to  discover  on  what  corner  of  the  land  I was 
thrown.  Nothing  could  be  briefer  than  the 
circuit  of  my  island,  and  nothing  less  expla- 
natory. It  was  one  of  those  little  alluvial 
spots  that  grow  round  the  first  rock  that 
catches  the  vegetation  swept  down  by  rivers. 
Ages  had  gone  by,  while  reed  was  bound  to 
reed,  and  one  bed  of  clay  laid  upon  another. 
The  ocean  had  thrown  up  its  pebbles  on  the 
shore,  the  wind  had  sown  tree  and  herb  on 
the  naked  sides  of  the  tall  rock,  the  tree  had 
drawn  the  cloud,  and  from  its  roots  let  loose 
the  spring.  Cities  and  empires  perished 
while  this  little  island  was  forming  into  love- 
liness. Thus  nature  perpetually  builds, 
while  decay  does  its  work  with  the  pomps  of 
man. 

From  the  shore  I saw  but  a long  line  of 
yellow  sand  across  a broad  belt  of  blue  waters. 
No  sight  on  earth  could  less  attract  the  eye, 
or  be  less  indicative  of  man  and  the  delights 
of  civilized  life.  y 

Yet,  within  that  sandy  barrier,  what  wild 
and  wonderous  acts  were  doing  and  to  be 

9 


i --jf 

done  ! My  mind,  with  a wing  that  no  sorrow 
or  bondage  could  tame,  passed  over  the  de- 
sert, and  saw  the  battle,  the  siege,  the  bloody 
sedition,  the  long  and  heart-broken  banish- 
ment, the  fierce  conflict  of  passions  irrestrain- 
able  as  the  tempest,  the  melancholy  ruin  of 
my  country  by  a judgment  powerful  as  fate, 
and  dreary,  and  returnless  as  the  grave. 

But  the  waters  between  me  and  that  shore, 
were  an  obstacle  that  no  vigor  of  imagination 
could  overcome.  I was  too  feeble  to  attempt 
the  passage  by  swimming.  The  opposite 
coast  appeared  to  be  uninhabited,  and  the 
few  fishing  boats  that  passed  lazily  along  this 
lifeless  coast,  evidently  shunned  the  island, 
as  I conceived,  from  some  hidden  shoal.  I 
felt  myself  a prisoner,  and  the  thought  irri- 
tated me.  That  ancient  disturbance  of  my 
mind,  which  rendered  it  so  keenly  excitable, 
was  born  again;  I felt  its  coming,  and  knew 
that  my  only  resource  was  to  escape  from 
this  circumscribing  paradise,  that  was  to  be- 
come my  dungeon.  Day  after  day  I paced 
the  shore,  awaking  the  echoes  with  my  use- 
less shouts,  as  each  distant  sail  glided  along 
close  to  the  sandy  line  that  was  to  me  the 
unattainable  path  of  happiness.  I made 
signals  from  the  hill ; but  I might  as  well 
have  summoned  the  vultures  to  stop,  as  they 
flew  screaming  above  my  head  to  feed  on  the 
relics  of  the  Syrian  caravans. 

What  trifles  can  sometimes  stand  between 
man  and  enjoyment!  Wisdom  would  have 
thanked  Heaven  for  the  hope  of  escaping  the 
miseries  of  life  in  the  little  enchanted  round, 
guarded  by  that  entrenchment  of  waters, 
filled  with  every  production  that  could  de- 
light. the  sense,  and  giving  to  the  spirit  weary 
of  all  that  the  world  could  offer,  the  gentle 
retirement  in  which  it  could  gather  its  re- 
maining strength,  and  make  its  peace  with 
Heaven. 

I was  lying,  during  a fiery  noon,  on  the 
edge  of  the  island,  looking  towards  the  oppo- 
site coast,  the  only  object  on  which  I could 
now  bear  to  look;  when  in  the  stillness  of  the 
hour  T heard  a strange  mingling  of  distant 
sounds;  yet  so  totally  indistinct,  that  after 
long  listening  I could  conjecture  it  to  be 
nothing  but  the  ripple  of  the  water. 

It  died  away.  But  it  haunted  me ; I heard 
it  in  fancy.  It  followed  me  in  the  twilight, 
when  earth  arid  heaven  were  soft  and  silent 
as  an  infant’s  sleep — when  the  very  spirit  ot 
tranquillity  seemed  to  be  folding  his  dewy 
wings  over  the  world. 

Wearied  more  with  thought  than  with  the 
daily  toil  that  I imposed  on  myself  for  its 
cure,  I had  lain  down  on  my  bed  of  turf  un- 
der the  shelter  of  those  thick  woven  boughs 
that  scarcely  let  in  the  glimpses  of  the  moon. 
The  memory  of  all  whom  later  chances 
brought  in  my  path,  passed  before  me.  The 


Salat  hid. 


fate  of  my  gallant  kinsmen  in  Masada ; of  the 
wily  Ishmaelite ; of  the  pirate  captain  ; of  that 
unhappy  crew,  whose  danger  was  my  invo- 
luntary deed  ; of  my  family,  scattered  upon 
the  face  of  the  world.  Arcturus  bending  to- 
wards the  horizon,  told  me  that  it  was  mid- 
night; when  my  revery  was  broken  by  the 
same  sounds  that  had  disturbed  my  day. 

But  they  now  came  full  and  distinct.  I 
heard  the  crashing  of  heavy  axles  a'long  the 
road,  the  measured  tramp  of  cavalry,  the  calls 
of  the  clarion  and  trumpet.  They  seemed 
beside  me.  I started  from  my  bed ; but  all 
around  was  still.  1 gazed  across  the  waters. 
They  were  lying,  like  another  sky,  reflecting 
star  for  star  with  the  blue  immensity  above; 
but  on  them  was  no  living  thing. 

I had  heard  of  phantom  armies  traversing 
the  air ; but  the  sky  was  serene  as  crystal.  I 
climbed  the  hill;  upon  whose  summit  I re- 
collected to  have  seen  the  ruins  of  an  altar; 
gathered  the  weeds,  and  lighted  a beacon. 
The  flame  threw  a wide  and  ruddy  reflection 
on  the  waters  and  the  sky.  I watched  by  it. 
till  morn.  But  the  sound  had  died  as  rapidly 
as  it  came.  And  wdien  with  the  first  pearly 
tinge  of  the  east,  the  coast  shaped  itself  be- 
neath my  eye,  I saw  with  bitter  disappoint- 
ment but.  the  same  solitary  sand. 

The  idea  of  another  day  of  suspense  was 
intolerable.  I returned  to  my  place  of  re- 
fuge, gave  it  that  glance  of  mingled  feeling, 
without  which  perhaps  no  man  leaves  the 
shelter  w'hich  he  is  never  to  see  again  ; col- 
lected a few  fruits  for  my  sustenance  if  I 
should  reach  the  shore  of  Palestine,  and,  with 
a resolution  to  perish,  if  it  so  pleased  Provi- 
dence, but  not  to  return,  plunged  into  the 
sea. 

The  channel  was  even  broader  than  I had 
calculated  by  the  eye.  My  limbs  were  still  en- 
feebled; but  my  determination  was  strength. 
I was  swept  by  the  current  far  from  the  oppo- 
site curve  of  the  shore,  yet  its  force  spared 
mine  ; and  at  length  I felt  the  ground  under 
my  feet.  I was  overjoyed ; though  never  was 
6cene  less  fitted  for  joy.  To  the  utmost 
verge  of  the  view,  spread  the  desert;  a sullen, 
herbless  waste,  glowing  like  a sheet  of  brass 
in  the  almost  vertical  sun. 

But  I was  on  land.  I had  accomplished 
my  purpose.  Hope,  the  power  of  exertion,- 
the  chances  of  the  glorious  future  were  be- 
fore me.  I was  no  longer  a prisoner  within 
the  borders  of  a spot,  which  for  the  objects  of 
manly  life  might  as  well  have  been  my 
grave. 

I journeyed  on  in  the  direction  of  Masada ; 
there  at  least  I should  be  no  fugitive.  Yet, 
what  fearful  reverses,  in  this  time  of  confu- 
sion, might  not  have  occurred  even  there  1 
what  certainty  could  I have  of  being  spared 
the  bitterest  losses,  when  sorrow  and  slaughter 


reigned  through  the  land  1 Was  I to  be  pro- 
tected from  the  storm  that  fell  with  such  pro- 
miscuous fury  upon  all?  I,  too,  the  marked, 
the  victim,  the  example  to  mankind! — I 
looked  wistfully  back  to  the  isle,  that  isle  of 
oblivion. 

While  I was  pacing  the  shore,  that  actually 
scorched  my  feet,  I heard  a cry  of  alarm,  and 
saw  on  a low  range  of  sand  hills,  at  some 
distance,  a figure  making  violent  gestures. 
Friend  or  enemy,  at  least  here  was  man;  and 
1 did  not  deeply  care  for  the  consequences 
even  of  meeting  man  in  his  worst  shape. 
My  life  was  not  worth  the  taking.  Plunger 
and  thirst  might  be  more  formidable  enemies 
in  the  end  ; and  I advanced  towards  the  half- 
naked  savage,  who,  however,  ran  down  from 
the  hill,  crying  out  louder  than  ever.  I 
dragged  my  weary  limbs  after  him,  and 
reached  the  edge  of  a little  dell,  in  which 
stood  a circle  of  tents. 

I had  fallen  among  the  robbers  of  the  de- 
sert; but  there  was  evident  confusion  in  this 
fragment  of  a tribe.  The  camels  were  in  the 
act  of  being  loaded,  men  and  wemen  were 
gathering  their  household  utensils  with  the 
haste  of  terror,  and  dogs,  sheep,  camels,  and 
children,  set  up  their  voices  in  a general 
clamor. 

Dreading  that  I might  lose  my  only  chance 
of  refreshment  and  guidance,  I cried  out  with 
all  my  might,  and  ran  down  towards  them; 
but,  the  sight  of  me  raised  an  universal 
scream;  and  every  living  thing  took  flight, 
the  warriors  of  the  colony  gallantly  leading 
the  way  with  a speed  that  soon  left  the  pe- 
destrians far  in  the  rear.  But  their  invader 
conquered  only  for  food.  I entered  the  first 
of  the  deserted  tents,  and  indulged  myself 
with  a full  feast  of  bread,  dry  and  rough  as 
the  sand  on  which  it  was  baked,  and  of  wa- 
ter only  less  bitter  than  that  through  which 
I had  passed.  But  all  luxury  is  relative.  To 
me  they  were  both  delicious,  and  1 thanked 
at  once  the  good  fortune  which  had  provided 
so  prodigally  for  those  withered  monarchs  of 
the  sands,  and  had  invested  me  with  the  sa- 
lutary terror  that  gave  the  fruits  of  triumph 
without  the  toil. 

At  the  close  of  my  feast  I uttered  a few 
customary  words  of  thanksgiving;  a cry  of 
joy  rang  in  my  cars;  I looked  round ; saw,  to 
my  surprise,  a bale  of  carpets  walk  forward 
from  a corner  of  the  tent,  and  heard  a Jewish 
tongue,  imploring  for  life  and  freedom.  I 
rapidly  developed  the  speaker ; and  from  this 
repulsive  coverture  came  forth  one  of  the  love- 
liest young  females  that  I had  ever  seen. 
Her  story  was  soon  told.  Noami  was  the 
grand-daughter  of  Ananus,  the  late  high- 
priest,  one  of  the  most  distinguished  of  his 
nation  for  every  lofty  quality ; but  he  had 
fallen  on  evil  days.  His  resistance  to  faction 


Salathiel. 


125 


sharpened  the  dagger  against  him,  and  he 
perished  in  one  of  the  merciless  feuds  of  the 
city.  His  only  descendant  was  sent  to  claim 
the  protection  of  her  relatives  in  the  south  of 
Judea.  But  her  escort  was  dispersed  by  an 
attack  of  the  Arabs,  and  in  the  division  of 
the  spoil,  the  Sheik  of  this  little  encampment 
obtained  her  as  his  share. 

The  robber-merchant  was  on  his  way  to 
Cesarea  to  sell  his  prize  to  the  Roman  gov- 
ernor, when  my  arrival  put  his  army  to  the 
route.  To  my  inquiry  into  the  cause  of  this 
singular  success,  the  fair  girl  answered  that 
the  Arabs  had  taken  me  for  a supernatural 
visitant,  “ probably  come  to  claim  some  ac- 
count of  their  proceedings  in  the  late  expedi- 
tion.” They  had  been  first  startled  by  the 
blaze  in  the  island,  which,  from  a wild  tradi- 
tion, was  supposed  to  be  the  dwelling  of  for- 
bidden beings.  The  passage  of  the  channel 
was  seen,  and  increased  the  wonder ; my 
daring  to  appear  alone  among  men  whom 
mankind  shunned,  completed  the  belief  of  my 
more  than  mortal  prowess;  and  the  Arab’s 
courage  abandoned  a contest,  in  which  “ the 
least  that  could  happen  to  them  was  to  be 
swept  into  the  ocean,  or  tost  piecemeal  upon 
the  winds.” 

To  prevent  the  effects  of  their  returning 
intrepidity,  no  time  was  to  be  lost  in  our 
escape.  But  the  sun,  which  would  have 
scorched  any  thing  but  a lizard,  or  a Bedow- 
een,  to  death,  kept  us  prisoners  until  evening. 
We  were  actively  employed  in  the  mean 
while.  The  plunder  of  the  horde  was  exam- 
ined with  the  curiosity  that  makes  one  of  the 
indefeasible  qualities  of  the  fair  in  all  clim- 
ates; and  the  young  Jewess  had  not  been  an 
inmate  of  the  tent,  nor  possessed  the  brightest 
eyes  among  the  daughters  of  women,  for 
nothing. 

With  an  air  between  play  and  revenge, 
she  hunted  out  every  recess  in  which  even 
the  art  of  Arab  thievery  could  dispose  of  its 
produce ; and  at  length  rooted  up  from  a hole 
in  the  very  darkest  corner  of  the  tent,  that 
precious  deposit  for  which  the  Sheik  would 
have  sacrificed  all  mankind,  and  even  the 
last  hair  of  his  beard — a bag  of  shekels.  She 
danced  with  exultation,  as  she  poured  its 
shining  contents  on  the  ground  before  me. 

“ If  ever  Arab  regretted  his  capture,”  said 
she,  “this  most  unlucky  of  Sheiks  shall  have 
cause.  But  I shall  teach  him  at  least  one 
virtue  ; repentance  to  the  last  hour  of  his  life. 
I think  that  I see  him  at  this  moment  frightened 
into  a philosopher,  and  wishing  from  the  bot- 
tom of  his  soul,  that  he  had,  for  once,  resisted 
the  temptations  of  his  trade.” 

“ But  what  will  you  do  with  the  money, 
my  pretty  teacher  of  virtue  to  Arabs  1” 

“Give  it  to  my  preserver,”  said  she,  ad- 
vancing, with  a look  suddenly  changed  from 


sportiveness  to  blushing  timidity ; “ give  it  to 
him  who  was  sent  by  Providence  to  rescue  a 
daughter  of  Israel  from  the  hands  of  Pagans.” 

In  the  emotion  of  gratitude  to  me  there 
was  mingled  a loftier  feeling,  never  so  lovely 
as  in  youth  and  woman  ; she  threw  up  a sin- 
gle glance  to  heaven,  and  a tear  of  piety  and 
gratitude  filled  her  sparkling  eye. 

“ But,  temptress  and  teacher  at  once,  by 
what  right  am  I to  seize  on  the  Sheik’s  trea- 
sury ! May  it  not  diminish  my  supernatural 
dignity  with  the  tribe,  to  be  known  as  a plun- 
derer 1” 

“ Ha  !”  said  she,  with  a rosy  smile  ; “ who 
is  to  betray  you  but  your  accomplice!  Be- 
sides, money  is  reputation  and  innocence, 
wisdom  and  virtue,  all  over  the  world.  Be 
rich,  and  mankind  are  too  rational  to  inquire 
how  you  became  the  happy  possessor  of  that 
which  mankind  worship  in  their  soul.  But 
listen,  and  let  us  state  the  case  fairly.” 

Touching  with  the  tip  of  one  slender  finger 
my  arm  as  it  lay  folded  over  my  bosom,  she 
waved  the  other  hand  in  attitude  of  untaught 
persuasion. 

1 “ Is  it  not  true,”  pleaded  the  pretty  crea- 

ture, “ that  next  to  a crime  of  our  own,  is  the 
being  a party  to  the  crime  of  others'!  Now, 
for  what  conceivable  purpose  could  the  Arab 
have  collected  this  money!  Not  for  food  or 
clothing ; for  he  can  eat  thistles  with  his  own 
mule,  and  nature  has  furnished  him  with 
clothing  as  she  has  furnished  the  bear.  The 
alhaic  is  only  an  incumbrance  to  his  impene- 
trable skin.  What  then  can  he  do  with  mo- 
ney, but  mischief!  fit  out  new  expeditions, 
and  capture  other  fair  maidens,  who  cannot 
hope  to  find  spirits  good  or  bad  for  their  pro- 
tectors! If  we  leave  him  the  means  of  evil, 
what  is  it  but  doing  the  evil  ourselves ! So,” 
concluded  this  resistless  pleader,  carefully 
gathering  up  the  spoil,  and  putting  it  into 
my  hand,  “ I have  gained  my  cause,  and  have 
now  only  to  thank  my  most  impartial  judge 
for  his  patient  hearing.” 

There  is  a spell  in  woman.  No  man,  not 
utterly  degraded,  can  listen  without  delight 
to  the  accents  of  a guileless  heart.  Beau- 
ty too  has  a natural  power  over  the  mind ; 
and  it  is  right  that  this  should  be.  All  that 
overcomes  selfishness,  the  besetting  sin  of  the 
world,  is  an  instrument  of  good.  Beauty  is 
but  melody  of  a higher  kind  ; and  both  alike 
soften  the  troubled  and  hard  nature  of  man. 
Even  if  we  looked  on  lovely  woman  but  as 
on  a rose,  an  exquisite  production  of  the  sum- 
mer hours  of  life,  it  would  be  idle  to  deny 
her  influence  in  making  even  those  summer 
hours  sweeter. 

But,  as  the  companion  of  the  mind,  as  the 
very  model  of  a friendship  that  no  chance  can 
shake,  as  the  pleasant  sharer  of  the  heart  of 
I heart,  the  being  to  whom  man  returns  after 


126 


Salathiel. 


the  tumult  of  the  day,  like  the  worshipper  to 
a secret  shrine,  to  revive  his  noble  tastes  and 
virtues  at  a source  pure  from  the  evil  of  the 
external  world,  and  glowing  with  a perpetual 
light  of  sanctity  and  love  ; where  shall  we 
find  her  equal  1 or  what  must  be  our  feeling 
toward  the  mighty  Disposer  of  earth  and  all 
that  it  inhabit,  but  of  admiration  and  gratitude 
to  that  disposal,  which  thus  combines  our 
highest  happiness  with  our  purest  virtue  ! 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

The  evening  came  at  last;  the  burning 
calm  was  followed  by  a breeze  breathing  of 
life  ; and  on  the  sky  sailed,  as  if  it  were  waft- 
ed by  that  gentle  breeze,  the  evening  star. 
The  lifeless  silence  of  the  desert  began  to  be 
broken  by  a variety  of  sounds,  wild  and  sad 
enough  in  themselves,  but  softening  by  dis- 
tance, and  not  ill  suited  to  that  declining 
hour,  which  is  so  natural  an  emblem  of  the 
decline  of  life.  The  moaning  of  the  shep- 
herd’s horn;  the  low  of  the  folding  herds; 
the  long,  deep  cry  of  the  camel ; even  the 
scream  of  the  vulture  wheeling  home  from 
the  corpse  left  by  some  recent  wreck  on  the 
shore  ; and  the  howl  of  the  jackall  venturing 
out  on  the  edge  of  dusk,  came  with  no  un- 
pleasing melancholy  upon  the  wind. 

We  stood  gazing  impatiently  from  the 
tent-door  at  the  west,  that  still  glowed  like  a 
furnace  of  molten  gold. 

“Will  that  sun  never  go  down"!”  said  I. 
“VVe  must  wait  his  leisure;  and  he  seems 
determined  to  tantalize  us.” 

“ Yes ; like  a rich  old  man,  determined  to 
try  the  patience  of  his  heirs ; end  more  tena- 
cious of  his  wealth,  the  more  his  powers  of 
enjoyment  decay.” 

“Philosophy  from  those  young  lips  ! Yet, 
the  desert  is  the  place  for  a philosopher.” 

“ That  I deny,”  said  my  sportive  compan- 
ion. “ Philosophy  is  good  for  nothing,  where 
it  has  nothing  to  ridicule,  and  where  it  will 
be  neither  fed  nor  flattered.  Its  true  place 
is  the  world  ; as  much  as  the  true  place  of 
yonder  falcon  is  wherever  it  can  find  any 
thing  to  pounce  upon.  Here  your  philoso- 
pher must  labor  for  himself,  and  laugh  at 
himself;  an  indulgence  of  which  he  is  the 
most  temperate  of  men.  In  short,  he  is  fit 
only  for  the  idle,  gay,  ridiculous,  and  timid 
world.  The  desert  is  the  soil  for  a much 
nobler  plant.  If  you  would  train  a poet  into 
a flower,  set  him  here.” 

“ Or  a plunderer.” 

“ No  doubt. — They  are  sometimes  much 
the  same.” 

“ But  the  desert  produces  nothing — but 
Arabs.” 

“ There  are  some  minds  even  among  Arabs: 


and  some  of  their  rhapsodies  are  beauty  itself. 
The  very  master  of  this  tent,  who  fought  and 
killed,  I dare  not  say  how  many,  to  secure  so 
precious  a prize  as  myself ; and  who,  after  all 
his  heroism,  would  have  sold  me  into  slavery 
for  life,  spent  half  his  evenings  sitting  at  this 
door,  chanting  to  every  star  of  heaven,  and 
rhyming  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  to  all  kinds 
of  tender  remembrances.” 

“ But  he  was  a genius,  a heaven-born  ac- 
cident ; and  his  merit  was  the  more  in  being 
a genius  in  the  midst  of  such  a scene.” 

“No — every  thing  round  us  this  hour  is 
poetry.  The  silence — those  broken  sounds 
that  make  the  silence  more  striking  as  they 
decay — those  fiery  continents  of  cloud,  the 
empire  of  that  greatest  of  sheiks  the  sun,  lord 
of  the  red  desert  of  the  air — the  immeasur- 
able desert  below  ! Vastness,  obscurity,  and 
terror,  the  three  spirits  that  work  the  pro- 
foundest  wonders  of  the  poet,  are  here  in 
their  native  region.  And  now,”  she  said, 
with  a look  that  showed  there  were  other 
spells  than  poetry  to  be  found  in  the  desert, 
“ to  release  you  ; I know  by  signs  infallible 
that  the  sun  is  setting.” 

I could  not  avoid  laughing  at  the  mimic 
wisdom  with  which  she  announced  her  dis- 
covery ; and  asked  whence  she  had  acquired 
the  faculty  of  solving  such  rare  problems. 

“ Oh,  by  my  incomparable  knowledge  of 
the  stars.”  She  pointed  to  the  eastern  sky, 
on  which  they  began  to  cluster  in  showers  of 
diamond.  “ I have  to  thank  the  desert  for  it; 
and,”  she  added,  with  a slight  submission  of 
voice,  “ for  every  thing. — I am  a daughter  of 
the  desert ; the  first  sight  that  I saw  was  a 
camel ; my  early,  my  only  accomplishments 
were,  to  ride,  sing  Bedoween  songs,  tell  Be- 
doween  stories,  and  tame  a young  panther. 
But,  my  history  draws  to  a close.  While  I 
was  supreme  in  the  graces  of  a savage ; had 
learned  to  sit  on  a dromedary,  throw  the 
lance,  make  alhaics,  and  gallop  for  a week 
together ; love,  resistless  love,  came  in  my 
j way.  The  son  of  the  sheik,  heir  to  a hund- 
red quarrels,  and  ten  thousand  sheep,  goats, 
and  horses,  claimed  me  as  his  natural  prey. 
I shrank  from  a husband,  even  more  accom- 
plished than  myself;  and  was  meditating  how 
to  make  my  escape,  whether  into  the  wilder- 
ness, or  into  the  bottom  of  the  sea ; when  a 
summons  came,  which,  or  the  money  that 
came  with  it,  the  sheik  found  irresistible. 
And  now,  my  history  is  at  an  end.” 

“ And  so,”  said  I,  to  provoke  her  to  the 
rest  of  her  narrative,  “ your  story  ends,  as 
usual,  with  marriage.  You,  of  course,  find- 
ing that  you  had  nothing  to  prevent  your 
leaving  the  desert,  took  the  female  resolution 
of  staying  in  it;  and,  as  you  might  discard 
the  young  sheik  at  your  pleasure,  refused  to 
, have  any  other  human  being.” 


|i 


Salalhiel. 


127 


“ Can  you  think  me  capable  of  such  a hor- 
ror !”  She  stamped  her  little  foot  in  indig- 
nation on  the  ground  ; then  turning  on  me 
with  her  flashing  eye,  penetrated  the  strata- 
gem at  once  by  my  smile. 

“ Then,  hear  the  rest.  I mounted  my  dro- 
medary ; galloped  for  three  days  without 
sleep ; and,  at  length,  saw  the  towers  of  Jeru- 
salem— glorious  Jerusalem.  I passed  through 
crowds  that  seemed  to  me  a gathering  of  the 
world  ; streets  that  astonished  me  with  a 
thousand  strange  sights;  and,  overwhelmed 
with  magnificence,  delight,  and  fatigue,  ar- 
rived at  a palace,  where  I was  met  by  a host 
of  half-adoring  domestics ; and  was  led  to  the 
most  venerable  and  beloved  of  wise  and  holy 
men,  who  caught  me  to  his  heart,  called  me 
Naomi,  his  child,  his  hope ; and  shed  tears 
and  blessings  on  my  head,  as  the  sole  sur- 
vivor of  his  illustrious  line.” 

The  recollection  of  the  good  and  heroic 
high-priest  was  strong  with  us  both ; and  in 
silence  I suffered  her  sorrows  to  have  their 
way. 

A faint  echo  of  horns  and  voices  roused 
me. 

“ Look  to  the  hills,”  I exclaimed ; and  I 
saw  a long  black  line  creeping,  like  a march 
of  ants,  down  the  side  of  a distant  range  of 
sand. 

“ Those  are  our  Arabs,”  said  she,  without 
a change  of  countenance.  “ They  are,  of 
course,  coming  to  see  what  the  angel  or  de- 
mon who  visited  them  to-day  has  left  in  wit- 
ness of  his  formidable  presence.  But,  from 
what  I overheard  of  their  terrors,  no  Arab 
will  venture  near  the  tents  till  night;  night, 
the  general  veil  of  the  iniquities  of  this  plea- 
sant and  very  wicked  world.” 

“ Yet  how  shall  we  traverse  the  sands  on 
foot  1” 

“ Forbid  it,  the  spirit  of  romance.  I must 
see  whether  the  gallantry  of  the  sheik  has 
not  provided  against  that  misfortune.”  She 
flew  into  the  tent,  and,  drawing  back  a cur- 
tain, showed  me  two  mares  of  the  most  fa- 
mous breed  of  Arabia. 

“ Here  are  the  Koshlani,”  said  she,  with 
playful  malice  dancing  in  her  eyes.  “I  saw 
them  brought  in  in  triumph  last  night,  stolen 
from  the  pastures  of  Achmet  ben  Ali  himself, 
first  norse-stealer  and  prince  of  the  Bedow- 
eens,  who  is  doubtless  by  this  time  half  dead 
of  grief  at  the  loss  of  the  two  gems  of  his  stud. 

I heard  the  achievement  told  with  great  re- 
joicings ; and  a very  curious  specimen  of 
dexterity  it  was.  Come  forth,”  said  she, 
leading  out  two  beautiful  animals,  white  as 
milk.  “ Come  forth,  you  two  lovely  orphans 
of  the  true  breed  of  Solomon; — princesses 
with  pedigrees  that  put  kings  to  shame,  un- 
less they  can  go  back  two  thousand  years;! 


birds  of  the  Bedoween,  with  wings  to  your 
feet,  stars  for  eyes,  and  ten  times  the  sense 
of  your  masters,  in  your  little  tossing 
heads.” 

She  sprang  upon  her  courser,  and  winded 
it  with  the  delight  of  practised  skill.  The 
Arabs  were  now  but  a few  miles  off,  and  in 
.full  gallop  towards  us.  I urged  her  to  ride 
away  at  once.  But  she  continued  curvetting 
and  manoeuvring  her  spirited  steed,  that,  en- 
joying the  free  air  of  the  desert  after  having 
been  shut  up  so  long,  threw  up  its  red 
nostrils  in  the  wind,  and  bounded  like  a 
stag. 

“ A moment  yet,”  said  she,  “ I have  not 
quite  done  with  the  Arab.  It  is  certainly  bad 
treatment  for  his  hospitality,  to  have  plunder- 
ed him  of  his  dinner,  his  money,  and  his 
horses.” 

“ And  of  his  captive  ; a loss  beyond  all  re- 
paration.” 

“ I perfectly  believe  so,”  was  the  laughing 
i answer;  “ but  I have  been  thinking  of  mak- 
ing him  a reparation,  which  any  Arab  on 
earth  would  think  worth  even  my  charms. 
I have  been  contriving  how  to  make  his  for- 
tune.” 

“ By  returning  his  shekels!” 

“ Not  a grain  of  them  shall  he  ever  see. 
No;  he  shall  not  have  the  sorrow  to  think 
that  he  entertained  only  a princess  and  a 
philosopher.  As  a spirit  you  came,  and  as  a 
spirit  you  shall  depart;  and  he  shall  have  the 
honor  of  telling  the  tale.  The  national  sto- 
ries of  such  matters  are  worn  out ; he  shall 
have  a new  one  of  his  own  ; and  every  emir 
in  the  kingdoms  of  Ishmael,  through  the  fiery 
sands  of  Ichama;  the  riverless  mountains  of 
Nayd  ; Hejoz,  the  country  of  flies  and  fools  ; 
and  Yemen,  the  land  of  locusts,  lawyers  and 
merchants,  will  rejoice  to  have  him  at  his 
meal.  The  man’s  fortune  is  made,  for  there 
is  no  access  to  the  heart  like  that  of  being 
necessary  to  the  dinners  and  dulness  of 
the  mighty.” 

“ Or  on  the  strength  of  the  wonder,”  said 
I,  “ he  may  make  wonders  of  his  ovvn  : turn 
charlatan  of  the  first  magnitude  ; profess  to 
cure  the  incurable,  and  get  solid  gold  for 
empty  pretension  ; sell  health  to  the  epicure, 
gaiety  to  the  old,  and  charms  to  the  repul- 
sive ; defy  the  course  of  nature,  and  live  like 
a prince  upon  the  exhaustless  revenue  of 
human  absurdity.” 

A cloud  of  smoke  wreathed  up  from  the 
sheik’s  tent,  fire  followed,  and  even  while  we 
looked  on,  the  wind,  carrying  the  burning 
fragments,  set  the  whole  camp  in  a blaze. 
The  Arabs  gave  a shriek,  and  fled  back, 
scattering,  with  gestures  and  cries  of  terror 
through  the  sands. 

[ “ There — there,”  said  my  companion,  clap- 


128 


Salathiel. 


ping  her  delicate  white  palms  in  exultation  ; 
“ let  them  beware  of  making  women  captives 
in  future.  In  my  final  visit  to  the  tent, 
I put  a firebrand  into  the  very  bundle 
of  carpets  in  which  I played  the  part  of 
slave.” 

“Not  to  be  your  representative,  I pre- 
sume.” 

“Yes,  with  the  only  distinction  that  in 
time  I should  have  been  the  more  perilous  of 
the  two.  If  that  unlucky  sheik  had  dared  to 
keep  me  a week  longer  in  his  detestable 
tent,  I should  have  raised  a rebellion  in  the 
tribe,  dethroned  him,  and  turned  princess  on 
my  own  account.  As  to  burning  him  out, 
there  was  no  remedy.  But  for  those  flames, 
the  tribune  would  have  been  upon  our  road. 
But  for  those  flames,  we  might  even  have 
been  mistaken  for  mere  mortals;  and  your 
Spirits  always  vanish,  as  we  do,  in  fire  and 
smoke.  How  nobly  those  tents  blaze  ! Now  ; 
forward.” 

She  gave  the  reins  to  her  barb,  flung  a tri- 
umphant gesture  towards  the  burning  camp, 
and  under  cover  of  a huge  sheet  of  fiery  va- 
por, we  darted  into  the  wilderness. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

T directed  our  flight  towards  Masada. 
The  stars  were  brilliant  guides;  and  the  cool- 
ness of  the  Arabian  night,  which,  from  so  sin- 
gular a contrast  to  the  overpowering  ardors 
of  the  day,  relieved  us  from  the  chief  obstacle 
of  desert  travel.  At  day-break  we  reached  a 
tract  near  the  sea-shore,  whose  broken  and 
burnt-up  ground  showed  that  there  had  lately 
encamped  the  army,  the  sound  of  whose  march 
filled  my  reveries  in  the  island. 

It  was  evening  when  I caught  the  glimpse 
of  the  distant  mountain  of  the  fortress.  My 
heart  bounded  fearfully  at  the  sight.  An 
impression  of  evil  was  upon  me.  Yet  I must 
go  on,  or  die. 

“ There,”  said  I,  “ you  see  my  home,  and 
yours,  while  you  desire  it.  You  will  find 
friends,  delighted  to  receive  you,  and  a pro- 
tection that  neither  Roman  nor  Arab  can 
violate.  Heaven  grant  that  all  may  be  as 
when  I left  Masada  !” 

The  fair  girl  gratefully  thanked  me. 

“ I have  been  long,”  said  she,  “ unused  to 
kindness ; and  its  voice  overpowers  me.  But 
if  the  duty,  the  gratitude,  the  faithful  de- 
votedness of  the  orphan  to  her  generous 
preserver,  can  deserve  protection,  I shall  yet 


have  some  claim.  Suffer  me  to  be  your 
daughter.” 

She  bowed  her  head  before  me  with  filial 
reverence  ; I took  the  outstretched  hand,  that 
quivered  in  mine,  and  pressed  it  to  my  lips. 
The  sacred  compact  was  ratified  in  the  sight 
of  Heaven.  More  formal  treaties  have  been 
made  ; but  few  sincerer. 

VVe  rapidly  advanced  to  the  foot  of  the 
ridge  that,  now  defining  and  extending,  show- 
ed its  well-known  features  in  their  rugged 
grandeur.  But,  to  corne  in  sight  of  the  for- 
tress, I had  still  one  of  the  huge  buttresses  of 
the  mountain  to  round.  My  companion,  with 
the  quick  sympathy  that  makes  one  of  the 
finest  charms  of  women,  already  shared  in  my 
ominous  fears,  and  rode  by  my  side  without 
uttering  a word.  My  eyes  were  fixed  on  the 
ground.  I was  roused  by  a clash  of  warlike 
music.  The  suspense  was  terribly  at  an 
end. 

The  spears  of  a legion  were  moving  in  a 
glittering  line  down  the  farther  declivity. 
Squadrons  of  horses  in  marching  order  were 
drawn  up  on  the  plain.  The  baggage  of  a 
little  army  lay  under  the  eye,  waiting  for  the 
escort  of  the  troops  now  descending  from  the 
fortress.  The  story  of  my  ruin  was  told  in 
that  single  glance.  All  was  lost. 

The  walls  of  the  citadel,  breached  in  every 
direction,  gave  signs  of  a long  siege.  The 
White  Stag  of  Naphtali  no  longer  lifted  its 
head  in  pride  on  the  battlements;  dismantling 
and  desolation  were  there.  But  what  horrors 
must  have  been  wrought,  before  the  Romans 
could  shake  the  strength  of  those  walls  ! In 
what  grave  was  I to  look  for  my  noble  bro- 
ther and  my  kinsmen  ? Last  and  most  fear- 
ful, what  had  been  the  fate  of  Miriam  and 
my  children  ! 

Conscious  that  to  stay  was  to  give  myself 
and  my  trembling  companion  to  the  cruel 
mercy  of  Rome,  1 was  yet  unable  to  leave 
the  spot.  I hovered  round  it  as  the  spirit 
might  hover  round  the  tomb.  Maddening 
with  bitter  yearnings  of  heart,  that  in- 
tense eagerness  to  know  the  worst,  which  is 
next  to  despair,  I spurred  up  the  steep  by  an 
obscure  path  that  led  me  to  a postern. 

There  was  no  sound  within. 

1 dashed  through  the  streets.  Not  a living 
being  was  to  be  seen  ; piles  of  fire-wood,  light- 
ed under  the  principal  buildings  and  at  the 
gates,  showed  that  the  fortress  was  destined 
to  immediate  overthrow.  War  had  done  its 
worst.  The  broad  sanguine  plashes  on  the 
pavements  showed  that  the  battle  had  been 
fought  long  and  desperately  within  the  walls. 
The  famous  armory  was  a heap  of  ashes. 
Ditches  dug  across  the  streets,  and  strewed 
with  broken  weapons,  and  the  white  rem- 
nants of  what  once  was  man ; walls  raised 


Salathiel. 


129 


within  walls,  and  now  broken  down;  stately 
houses  loop-holed  and  turned  into  little  for- 
tresses; fragments  of  noble  architecture 
blocking  up  the  breaches;  graves  dug  in 
every  spot  where  the  spade  could  open  a few 
feet  of  ground  ; fragments  of  superb  furniture 
lying  half-burnt,  where  the  defenders  had 
been  forced  out  by  conflagration;  gave  sadi 
evidence  of  the  struggle  of  brave  men  against: 
overpowering  numbers. 

But  where  were  they,  who  had  made  the 
prize  so  dear  to  the  conquerors'!  Was  I 
treading  on  the  clay  that  once  breathed  pa- 
triotism and  love ! Did  the  wreck  on  which 
I leaned,  as  I gazed  round  this  mighty  mau- 
soleum, cover  the  earthly  tenement  of  my 
kinsmen,  and  still  dearer,  the  last  of  my 
name ! Was  I treading  on  the  grave  of 
those  gentle  and  lovely  natures,  for  whose 
happiness  I would  rejoicingly  have  laid  down 
the  sceptre  of  the  world  ! 

In  my  agitation  I spoke  aloud.  My  voice 
rang  through  the  solitude  around  me,  and 
returned  on  the  ear  with  a startling  distinct-1 
ness.  Living  sounds  suddenly  mingled  with 
the  echo.  A low  groan  came  from  the  pile: 
of  ruins  beside  me.  I listened,  as  one  might | 
listen  for  an  answer  from  the  sepulchre.! 
The  voice  was  heard  again.  A few  stones] 
from  the  shattered  wall  gave  way,  and  I 
saw  thrust  out  the  withered  bony  hand  of 
a human  being.  I tore  down  the  remain- 
ing impediments,  and  saw,  pale,  emacia- 
ted, and  at  the  point  of  death,  by  famine, 
my  friend,  my  fellow-soldier,  my  fellow-suf- 
ferer, Jubal  ! 

Joy  is  sometimes  as  dangerous  as  sorrow. 
He  gave  a glance  of  recognition,  struggled 
forward,  and,  uttering  a wild  cry,  fell  sense- 
less into  my  arms.  On  his  recovering,  before 
I could  ask  him  the  question  nearest  to  my 
heart,  it  was  answered,  “ They  are  safe,  all 
safe,”  said  he.  “ On  the  landing  of  fresh 
troops  from  Italy,  the  first  efforts  of  the  le- 
gions was  directed  against  this  fortress. 
The  pirates,  in  return  for  the  victory  to  which 
you  led  them,  had  set  me  at  liberty.  I made 
my  way  through  the  enemy’s  posts ; Eleazar, 
ever  generous  and  noble,  received  me  after  I 
all  my  wanderings  with  the  heart  of  aj 
father;  and  we  determined  on  defending  this 
glorious  trophy  of  your  heroism  to  the  last  I 
man.  But,  with  the  wisdom  that  never  fail- 
ed him,  he  knew  what  must  be  the  result ; 
and  at  the  very  commencement  of  the  seige 
sent  away  your  family  to  Alexandria,  where 
they  might  be  secure  of  protection  from  our 
kindred.” 

“And  they  went  by  sea!”  I asked,  shud- 
deringly,  while  the  whole  terrible  truth  dawn- 
ed upon  my  mind. 


“ It  was  the  only  course.  The  country  was 
filled  with  the  enemy.” 

“ Then  they  are  lost ! Wretched  father, 
now  no  father.  Man  marked  by  destiny. 
The  blow  has  fallen  at  last.  They  perished. 
I saw  them  perish.  Their  dying  shrieks 
rang  in  these  ears.  I was  their  destroyer. 
From  first  to  last,  I have  been  their  un- 
doing !” 

Jubal  looked  on  me  with  astonishment. 
My  adopted  daughter,  without  any  idle  at- 
tempt at  consolation,  only  bathed  my  hand  in 
her  tears. 

“ There  must  be  some  misconception  here,” 
said  Jubal.  “ Before  we  left  that  accursed 
dungeon,  they  had  embarked  with  a crowd 
of  females  from  the  surrounding  country  in 
one  of  the  annual  fleets  for  Egypt.  Before 
we  sailed  from  the  pirate’s  cavern,  they  were 
probably  safe  in  Alexandria.” 

“ No  ! I saw  them  perish.  I heard  their 
dying  cry.  I drove  them,  involuntarily,  but 
surely  drove  them,  to  destruction,”  was  the 
only  voice  that  my  withering  lips  could  utter. 
I remembered  the  horrors  of  the  storm  ; the 
desperate  efforts  of  the  merchant  galley  to 
escape;  its  fatal  disappearance.  Faintly, 
and  with  many  a reviving  agony,  I gave  the 
melancholy  reasons  for  my  belief.  My  audi- 
tors listened  with  fear  and  trembling. 

“ There  is  now  no  use  in  sorrow,”  said 
Jubal,  sternly,  “and  as  little  in  struggle.  I 
too  have  lived  till  the  light  that  lightened 
my  dreary  hours  is  extinguished.  I have 
known  the  extremities  of  passion.  If  suffer- 
ing could  have  atoned  for  my  offences  I have 
suffered.  A thousand  years  of  existence 
could  not  teach  me  more.  Here  let  us  die.” 
He  unsheathed  his  poinard. 

“Here  let  us  die  !”  I exclaimed  with  him, 
and  my  poinard  glittered  in  my  hand. 

My  young  companion,  in  the  anxiety  of 
the  moment,  forgetting  the  presence  of  a 
stranger,  flung  back  the  veil  which  had  hith- 
erto covered  her  face  and  figure,  and  clasp- 
ing my  half-raised  arm,  said,  in  a tone  so 
low,  yet  penetrating,  that  it  seemed  the 
whispers  of  my  own  conscience — 

“ Has  death  no  fears!”  She  fixed  her  eyes 
on  me ; and  waited  breathless  for  the  an- 
swer. 

“ Daughter  of  beauty,”  said  Jubal,  as  a 
smile  of  admiration  played  on  his  sad  features, 
“ thoughts  like  ours  are  not  for  the  lovely 
and  the  young.  May  the  Heaven  that  has 
stamped  that  countenance  be  your  protection 
through  many  a year  ! But,  to  the  weary, 
rest  is  happiness,  not  terror.  Prince  of 
! Naphtali,  this  fair  maiden’s  presence  forbids 
darker  thoughts  ; we  must  speed  her  on  her 
way  to  security,  before  we  can  think  of  our- 
I selves  and  our  misfortunes.” 


130 


Salathiel. 


“ The  daughter  of  Ananus,”  said  she,  in  a 
tone  of  heroic  pride,  “has  no  fears.  The 
boldest  warrior  of  Israel  never  died  more 
boldly  than  that  venerable  parent.  VVithin 
his  sacred  robes  there  was  the  heart  of  a sol- 
dier, a patriot,  and  a king.  Let  me  die  for 
a cause  like  his;  at  the  foot  of  the  altar,  let 
my  blood  be  poured  out  for  my  country;  let 
this  feeble  form  sink  in  the  ruins  of  the  Tem- 
ple; and  death  will  be  of  all  welcome  things 
the  most  welcome.  But  I would  not  die  for  a 
fantasy,  for  idleness,  for  nothing;  put  up  those 
weapons,  warriors,  and  let  us  go  forth  and 
see  whether  great  things  are  not  yet  to  be 
done.” 

She  significantly  pointed  towards  Jeru- 
salem. 

“It  is  too  late,”  said  Jubal,  glancing  with 
a sigh  at  his  own  wasted  form. 

“ What!”  said  the  heroine  ; “ is  it  too  late 
to  be  virtuous,  but  not  too  late  to  be  guilty  ; 
too  late  to  resist  the  enemies  of  our  country, 
but  not  too  late  to  make  ourselves  worthless  to 
her  holy  cause ! If  Heaven  demands  an  ac- 
count of  every  wasted  talent,  and  misspent 
hour,  what  fearful  account  will  be  theirs  who 
make  all  talents  and  all  hours  useless  at  a 
blow  !” 

“ Maiden,  you  have  not  known  what  it  is 
to  lose  every  thing  that  made  earth  a place 
of  hope,”  said  I,  gazing  with  wonder  and  pity 
on  the  fine  enthusiasm  that  the  world  is  so 
fatally  empowered  to  destroy.  “ May  not  the 
tired  traveller  hasten  to  the  end  of  his  journey 
without  a crime  1” 

“ May  not  the  slave,”  said  Jubal,  “weary 
of  his  chain,  escape  unchidden  from  his  cap- 
tivity !” 

“ And  may  not  the  soldier  quit  his  post, 
when  caprice  disgusts  him  with  his  duty  !” 
was  the  maiden’s  answer  with  a lofty  look. 
“ Or  may  not  the  child  break  loose  from  the 
place  of  instruction,  and  plead  his  disgust  at 
discipline  ! As  well  may  man,  placed  here 
for  the  service  of  the  highest  and  most  be- 
nevolent of  beings,  plead  his  own  narrow  and 
ignorant  will  against  the  supreme  command  ; 
daringly  charge  Heaven  with  the  injustice 
of  setting  him  a task  above  his  strength,  and 
madly  insult  its  power  under  the  hollow  pre- 
text. of  relying  on  its  compassion.  This  wis- 
dom is  not  my  own.  It  was  the  last  gift  of 
an  illustrious  parent,  when  in  my  agony  at 
the  sight  of  his  mortal  wounds,  I longed  to 
follow  him.  ‘ Live,’  said  he,  ‘ w’hile  you  can 
live  with  virtue.  The  God  who  has  placed 
us  on  earth,  best  knows  when  and  how  to  re- 
call us.  If  self-destruction  were  no  crime  in 
one  instance,  it  would  be  no  crime  to  univer- 
sal mankind;  the  whole  frame  of  society 
tyould  be  overthrown  by  a permission  to  evade 
its  duties  on  the  easy  penalty  of  dying.  Our 


obligations  to  country,  family,  man,  and  Hea- 
ven, would  be  perpetually  flung  off,  if  they 
were  to  be  held  at  the  caprice  of  human  in- 
sensibility.’ ” 

Jubal  looked  intently  on  the  young  oracle; 
and,  bending  with  oriental  deference,  was  yet 
unconvinced.  “ Man  was  not  made  to  endure, 
when  endurance  is  useless.  Is  there  to  be 
no  end  to  the  mind’s  anxiety,  but  the  tardy  de- 
cay of  the  frame  ! Is  there  no  time  for  the 
return  of  the  exile ! or,  what  is  this  very 
feeling  of  despair,  but  a voice  within — an  un- 
written command — to  die  !” 

Naomi  turned  to  me  with  a look  imploring 
my  aid.  But  I was  broken  down  with  the 
tidings  that  had  just  reached  me.  Jubal 
wrapped  his  cloak  round  him,  and  was  strid- 
ing into  the  shadow  of  the  ruin.  Naomi,  ter- 
rified at  the  idea  of  death,  seized  the  corner 
of  his  mantle.  “Will  you  shrink  from  the 
evils  of  life!”  she  adjured,  “and  yet  have 
the  dreadful  courage  to  defy  the  wrath  of 
Heaven ! Shall  worms  like  us,  shall  crear- 
tures  covered  with  weaknesses  and  sins, 
whose  only  hope  must  be  in  mercy,  commit 
a crime  that  by  its  very  nature  disclaims 
supplication,  and  makes  repentance  impos- 
sible !” 

With  the  energy  of  fear,  she  threw  back 
the  folds  of  the  cloak,  and  arrested  the  hand, 
with  the  dagger  already  unsheathed  in  it. 
She  led  back  the  reluctant,  yet  unresisting 
step  of  the  suicide,  and  said,  in  a voice  still 
trembling;  “ Prince  of  Naphtali,  save  your 
brother.”  I held  out  my  arms  to  Jubal; 
the  sternness  of  his  soul  was  past,  and 
he  fell  upon  my  neck.  Naomi  stood  exult- 
ing in  her  triumph,  with  the  countenance 
that  an  angel  might  wear  at  the  return  of  a 
sinner. 

“ Prince  of  Naphtali,”  said  she,  “ if  those 
who  were  dear  to  you  have  perished,  .which 
Heaven  avert ! you  may  have  been  thus  but 
the  more  marked  out  for  the  instrument  of 
solemn  uses  to  Israel.  The  virtues  that 
might  have  languished  in  the  happiness  of 
home,  may  be  summoned  into  vigor  for  man- 
kind. Warrior,”  and  she  turned  her  glowing 
smile  on  Jubal,  “ this  is  not  the  time  for  val- 
or and  experience  to  shrink  from  the  side  of 
our  country.  Faction  may  be  repelled  by 
patriotism;  violence  put  down  by  wisdom; 
the  powers  of  the  people  roused  by  the 
example  of  a hero ; even  the  last  spark  of 
life  may  be  made  splendid  by  mingling  with 
the  last  glories  of  the  chosen  people  of 
God.”  / 

Jubal's  wasted  cheek  reddened  with  the 
theme  ; but  his  emotion  was  too  deep  for  lan- 
guage : he  led  the  way  ; we  passed  in  silence 
through  the  silent  streets  ; and,  without  see- 


Salalhiel. 


131 


ing  the  face  of  human  being,  reached  the  dis- 
mantled gates  of  Masada. 


CHAPTER  XL. 

Jubal  guided  us  down  the  declivities 
among  ramparts  and  trenches;  and  after  long 
windings,  where  every  step  reminded  us  of 
havoc,  brought  us  to  a little  hamlet  in  the 
recesses  of  the  valley,  so  secluded,  that 
it  seemed  never  to  have  heard  the  sound  of 
war. 

The  thunder  of  the  falling  masses  of  forti- 
fication, as  the  fire  reached  the  props,  awoke 
me  soon  after  midnight;  and  I arose  and 
tasted  the  delicious  air  that  makes  the  sum- 
mer night  of  Asia  the  time  of  refreshing  alike 
to  the  frame  and  to  the  mind.  I found  Jubal 
already  abroad,  and  gazing  on  the  summit  of 
the  mountain,  where  the  sullen  glare  of  the 
sky,  and  the  crash  of  buildings,  showed  that 
the  work  of  devastation  was  rapidly  going 
on. 

He  gave  me  some  of  the  details  of  the  siege. 
The  Romans  had  found  the  fortress  so  hazard- 
ous to  the  advance  of  their  reinforcements, 
that  its  possession  was  essential  to  the  con- 
quest of  Judea.  Cestius,  my  old  antagonist, 
solicited  the  command,  to  wipe  off  his  dis- 
grace ; and  the  whole  force  of  the  legions 
was  brought  up.  But  the  generalship  of 
Eleazar,  and  the  intrepidity  of  the  garrison, 
baffled  every  assault,  with  tremendous  loss  to 
the  enemy.  The  siege  was  next  turned  into 
a blockade.  Famine  and  disease  were  more 
formidable  than  the  sword;  and  the  brave 
defenders  were  reduced  to  a number  scarce- 
ly able  to  man  the  walls. 

“ We  now,”  said  Jubal,  “ fought  the  battle 
of  despair:  we  saw  the  enemy’s  camp  crowd- 
ed every  day  with  fresh  troops,  and  the  pro- 
visions of  the  whole  country  brought  among 
them  in  lavish  profusion,  while  we  had  not  a 
morsel  to  eat,  while  our  fountains  ran  dry, 
and  our  few  troops  were  harassed  with  mor- 
tal fatigue.  Yet  no  man  thought  of  surren- 
der. Eleazar’s  courage, — a courage  sustained 
by  higher  thoughts  than  those  of  the  soldier, 
the  fortitude  of  piety  and  prayer, — inspired 
us  all,  and  we  went  to  our  melancholy  duties 
with  the  calmness  of  those  to  whom  the  grave 
was  inevitable. 

“ At  last,  when  our  reduced  numbers  gave 
the  enemy  a hope  of  overpowering  the  de- 
fence, we  were  attacked  by  their  whole 
force.  But,  if  they  expected  to  conquer  us 
at  their  ease,  never  were  men  more  deceived, 


i When  the  walls  gave  way  before  their  ma- 
! chines,  they  were  fought  from  street  to  street, 
from  house  to  house,  from  chamber  to  cham- 
ber. Eleazar,  active  as  wise,  was  every 
{where;  we  fought  in  ruins — in  fire.  Multi- 
tudes of  the  enemy  perished  ; and  more  deaths 
were  given  by  the  knife  than  the  spear ; for 
our  arms  were  long  since  exhausted.  The 
last  effort  was  made  on  the  spot  where  you 
found  me.  When  every  defence  was  mas- 
tered by  the  perpetual  supply  of  fresh  troops, 
Eleazar,  passing  through  the  subterranean  to 
attack  the  Roman  rear,  left  me  in  command 
of  the  few  that  survived.  We  intrenched 
ourselves  in  the  armory.  For  three  days  we 
■fought,  without  tasting  food,  without  an  hour’s 
sleep,  without  laying  the  weapons  out  of  our 
hands.  At  length,  the  final  assault  was  given. 
In  the  midst  of  it  we  heard  shouts  which  told 
us  that  our  friends  had  made  the  concerted 
attack;  but  we  were  too  few  and  feeble  to 
second  it.  The  shouts  died  away — we  were 
overpowered ; and  my  first  sensation  of  re- 
turning life  was  the  combined  agony  of  fam- 
ine, wounds,  and  suffocation,  under  the  ruins 
that  I then  thought  my  living  grave.” 

“ By  dawn,”  said  I,  “ we  must  set  out  for 
Jerusalem.” 

“ It  has  been  closely  invested  for  the  last 
three  months ; and  famine  and  facLion  are 
doing  their  worst  within  the  walls.  Titus  is 
without,  at  the  head  of  a hundred  thousand  of 
the  legionaries  and  allies.  To  enter  will  be 
next  to  impossible ; and  when  once  entered, 
what  will  be  before  you  but  the  madness  of 
civil  discord,  and,  finally,  death  by  the  hands 
of  an  enemy  utterly  infuriated  against  our 
nation  1” 

“ To  Jerusalem,  at  all  risks ; my  fate  is 
mingled  with  that  of  the  last  stronghold  of 
our  fallen  people.  What  matters  it  to  one 
whose  roots  of  happiness  are  cut  up  like  mine, 
in  what  spot  he  struggles  with  man  and  for- 
I tune  1 As  a son  of  Judea  my  powers  are  due 
to  her  cause,  and  every  drop  of  my  blood  shed 
for  any  other  would  be  treason  to  the  memory 
of  my  fathers.  The  dawn  finds  me  on  my 
way  to  Jerusalem.” 

j “ It  is  spoken  like  a prince  of  Naphtali ; 
ibut  I must  not  follow  you.  The  course  of 
I glory  is  cut  off  for  me;  unless  something  may 
.still  be  done  by  collecting  the  fugitives  of  the 
tribes,  and  harassing  the  Roman  communi- 
cations. But  Jerusalem,  though  every  stone 
of  her  walls  is  precious  to  my  soul,  must  not 
receive  my  guilty  steps.  I have  horrid  re- 
collections' of  things  seen  and  done  there. 
My  mind  is  still  too  full  of  the  impulses  that 
drove  it  to  frenzy.  Onias,  that  wily  hypo- 
crite, will  be  there  to  fill  me  with  visions  of 
terror.  There  too  are — others.”  He  was 
{ silent;  but  suddenly  resuming  his  firmness, 


132 


Salathiel. 


“ I have  no  hostility  to  Constantius  ; I even 
honor  and  esteem  him  ; but  my  spirit  is  still 
too  feverish  to  bear  his  presence.  I must 
live  and  die  far  from  all  that  I have  ever 
known.” 

He  hid  his  face  in  his  mantle ; but  the  agi- 
tation of  his  form  showed  more  than  clamor- 
ous grief.  He  walked  forth  into  the  dark- 
ness. I was  ignorant  of  his  purpose,  and 
lingered  long  for  his  return.  But  I saw  him 
no  more. 

Disturbed  and  pained  by  his  loss,  I had 
scarcely  thrown  myself  on  the  cottage  floor, 
my  only  bed,  -when  1 was  roused  by  the  cries 
of  the  village.  A detachment  of  Roman 
cavalry,  marching  for  Jerusalem,  had  entered, 
and  was  taking  up  its  quarters  for  the  night. 
The  peasantry  could  make  no  resistance, 
and  attempted  none.  I had  only  time  to 
call  to  my  adopted  daughter  to  rise,  when 
our  hut  was  occupied  and  we  were  made 
prisoners. 

This  was  an  unexpected  blow ; yet  it  was 
one  to  which,  on  second  thoughts,  1 was  re- 
conciled. In  the  disturbed  state  of  the  coun- 
try travelling  was  totally  insecure,  and  even 
to  obtain  a conveyance  of  any  kind  was  a 
matter  of  extreme  difficulty.  The  roving 
plunderers  that  hovered  in  the  train  of  the 
camp  were,  of  all  plunderers,  the  most  mer- 
ciless. By  falling  into  the  hands  of  the  le- 
gionaries we  were  at  least  sure  of  an  escort ; 

I might  obtain  some  useful  information  of 
their  affairs;  and,  once  in  sight  of  the  city, 
might  escape  from  the  Roman  lines  with 
more  ease  as  a prisoner,  than  I could  pass 
them  as  an  enemy. 

The  cavalry  moved  at  day-break  ; and  be- 
fore night  we  saw  in  the  horizon  the  hills 
that  surround  Jerusalem.  But  we  had  full 
evidence  of  our  approach  to  the  centre  of 
struggle,  by  the  devastation  that  follows  the 
track  of  the  best  disciplined  army;  groves 
and  orchards  cut  down  ; corn-fields  trampled  ; 
cottages  burnt;  gardens  and  homesteads  rav- 
aged. Farther  on,  we  traversed  the  encamp- 
ments of  the  auxiliaries,  barbarians  of  every 
color  and  language  within  the  limits  of  the 
mightiest  of  empires. 

To  the  soldier  of  civilized  nations  war  is  a 
new  state  of  existence.  To  the  soldier  of 
barbarism  war  is  but  a more  active  species  of 
his  daily  life.  It  requires  no  divorce  from 
his  old  habits,  and  even  encourages  his  old 
objects,  cares,  and  pleasures.  YVe  found  the 
Arab,  the  German,  the  Scythian,  and  the 
Ethiop,  hunting,  carousing,  trafficking,  and 
quarrelling,  as  if  they  had  never  stirred  from 
their  native  regions.  The  hordes  brought 
with  them  their  families,  their  cattle,  and 
their  trade.  In  the  rear  of  every  auxiliary 
camp,  was  a regular  mart,  crowded  with  alii 


kinds  of  dealers.  Through  the  fields  the 
barbarians  were  following  the  sports  of  home. 
Trains  of  falconers  were  flying  their  birds  at 
the  wild  pigeon  and  heron.  Half-naked 
horsemen  were  running  races,  without  sad- 
dle or  rein,  on  horses  wild  and  swift  as  the 
antelope.  Groups  were  lying  under  the  palm- 
groves  asleep,  with  their  spears  fixed  at  their 
heads ; others  were  seen  busy  decorating 
themselves  for  battle  ; crowds  were  dancing, 
gaming,  and  drinking. 

As  we  advanced,  we  could  hear  the  variety 
of  clamors  and  echoes  that  belong  to  barba- 
rian war — the  braying  of  savage  horns,  the 
roars  of  mirth,  rage,  and  feasting  ; the  shouts 
of  clans  moving  up  to  reinforce  the  besiegers ; 
the  screams  and  lamentations  of  the  innumer- 
able women  as  the  wains  and  litters  brought 
back  the  wounded ; the  barbarian  howlings 
over  the  hasty  grave  of  some  chieftain  ; the 
ferocious  revelry  of  the  discoverers  of  plun- 
der, and  the  inextinguishable  sorrows  of  the 
captives. 

We  passed  through  some  miles  of  this  bois- 
terous and  bustling  scene,  in  which  even  a 
Roman  escort  was  scarcely  a sufficient  secu- 
rity. The  barbarians  thronged  round  us, 
brandished  their  spears  over  our  heads, 
rode  their  horses  full  gallop  against  us 
and  exhausted  the  whole  language  of  scorn, 
ridicule  and  wrath,  upon  our  helpless  con- 
dition. 

But  the  clamor  gradually  died  away  and 
we  entered  upon  another  region,  totally  de- 
nuded of  life  and  of  the  means  of  life  ; a zone 
of  silence  and  solitude  interposed  between 
the  dangerous  riot  of  barbarism  and  the  se- 
vere regularity  of  the  legions.  Far  within 
this  circle  we  reached  the  Roman  camp  ; the 
world  of  disciplined  war. 

The  setting  sun  threw  his  flame  on  the  long 
vistas  of  shield  and  helmet  drawn  out,  ac- 
cording to  custom,  for  the  hour  of  exercise 
before  nightfall.  The  tribunes  were  on  horse- 
back in  front  of  the  cohorts,  putting  them 
through  that  boundless  variety  of  admirable 
movements,  in  which  no  soldiery  were  so 
dexterous  as  those  of  Rome.  But  all  was 
done  with  characteristic  silence.  No  sound 
was  heard  but  the  measured  tramp  of  the 
manoeuvre,  and  the  voice  of  the  tribune. 
The  sight  was  at  once  absorbing  to  the  eye 
of  one,  like  me,  an  enthusiast  in  soldiership, 
and  appalling  to  the  lover  of  his  country. 
Before  me  was  the  great  machine,  the  resist- 
less, living  energy,  that  had  levelled  the 
strength  of  the  most  renowned1  kingdoms. 
With  the  feeling  of  a man  who  sees  the 
tempest  at  hand  ; in  the  immediate  terror  of 
the  bolt,  I could  yet  gaze  with  wonder  and 
admiration  at  the  grandeur  of  the  thunder 
cloud. 


Salathiel. 


133 


Before  me  was  at  once  the  perfection  of 
power  and  the  perfection  of  discipline.  Here 
were  no  rambling  crowds  of  retainers,  no 
hurryings  of  troops  startled  by  sudden  attack, 
no  military  clamors.  All  was  calm,  regular, 
and  grand.  In  a country,  the  seat  of  the 
most  furious  war  ever  waged,  I might  have 
thought  that  I saw  but  a summer  camp  in  an 
Italian  plain. 

As  the  night  fell,  the  legions  saluted  the  part- 
ing sun  with  homage,  according  to  a custom 
which  they  had  learned  in  their  eastern  cam- 
paigns. Sounds,  less  of  war  than  of  worship, 
arose;  flutes  breathed  in  low  and  dulcet  har- 
mohies  from  the  lines;  and  this  iron  sol- 
diery, bound  on  the  business  of  extermination, 
moved  to  their  tents  in  the  midst  of  strains 
made  to  warp  the  heart  in  softness  and  so- 
lemnity. 

I awoke  at  sun-rise.  But  was  I in  a land 
of  enchantment!  I looked  for  the  immense 
camp ; — it  had  vanished.  A few  soldies  col- 
lecting the  prisoners  sleeping  about  the  field 
were  all  that  remained  of  an  army.  Our 
guard  explained  the  wonder.  An  attack  on 
the  trenches,  in  which  the  besiegers  had  been 
driven  in  with  serious  loss,  had  determined 
Titus  to  bring  up  his  whole  force.  The  troops 
moved  with  that  habitual  silence  which  elud- 
ed almost  the  waking  ear.  They  were  now 
beyond  the  hills,  and  the  hour  was  come  at 
which  the  prisoners  were  ordered  to  follow 
them. 

But  where  was  the  daughter  of  Ananus! 
I had  placed  her  in  a tent  with  some  captive 
females  of  our  nation.  The  tent  was  struck, 
and  its  inmates  were  gone.  On  the  spot 
where  it  stood,  a flock  of  sheep  were  already 
grazing,  with  a Roman  soldier  leaning  drow- 
sily on  his  spear  for  their  shepherd. 

To  what  alarms  might  not  this  fair  girl  be 
exposed  1 Dubious  and  distressed,  I followed 
the  guard  in  the  hope  of  discovering  the  fate 
of  an  innocent  and  lovely  child,  who  seemed, 
like  myself,  marked  for  misfortune. 

In  this  march  we  went  almost  the  whole 
circuit  of  the  hills  surrounding  Jerusalem : 
and  I thus  had  for  three  days  the  opportunity 
that  I longed  for,  of  seeing  the  nature  of  the 
force  with  which  we  were  to  contend.  The 
troops  were  admirably  armed.  There  was 
nothing  for  superfluity  ; yet  those  who  con- 
ceived the  system,  knew  the  value  of  show, 
and  the  equipments  of  the  officers  were  su- 
perb. The  helmets,  cuirasses,  and  swords, 
were  frequently  inlaid  with  the  precious  me- 
tals; and  the  superior  officers  rode  richly  ca- 
parisoned chargers,  purchased  at  an  enor- 
mous price  from  the  finest  studs  of  Europe 
and  Asia.  The  common  soldier  was  proud  of 
the  brightness  of  his  shield  and  helmet ; on 
duty  both  were  covered ; but  on  their  festi- 


vals the  most  cheering  moment  was  when 
the  order  was  given  to  uncase  their  arms. 
Then,  nothing  could  be  more  beautiful  than 
the  aspect  of  the  legion.  One  stri  kina'  source 
of  its  pomp  was  the  multitude  of  banners; 
every  emblem  that  mythology  could  feign, 
every  animal,  every  memorial  connected 
with  the  history  of  soldership  and.Rome,  glit- 
tered above  the  forest  of  spears  ; gilded  ser- 
pents, wolves,  lions,  gods,  genii,  stars,  dia- 
dems, imperial  busts,  and  the  eagle  para- 
mount over  all,  were  mingled  with  vanes  of 
purple  and  embroidery.  The  most  showy 
pageant  of  civil  life  was  dull  and  colorless 
to  the  crowded  magnificence  of  the  Roman 
line. 

Their  system  of  manoeuvre  gave  this  mag- 
nificence its  full  development.  With  the 
ancient  armies  the  principle  was  the  concen- 
tration of  force.  All  was  done  by  impulse. 
The  figure  by  which  the  greatest  weight 
could  be  driven  against  the  enemy’s  ranks, 
was  the  secret  of  victory.  The  subtlety  of 
Italian  imagination,  enlightened  by  Greek 
science,  and  fertilized  by  the  experience  of 
universal  war,  was  occupied  in  the  discovery ; 
and  the  field  exercise  of  the  legions  displayed 
every  form  into  which  the  troops  could  be 
thrown. 

The  Romans  always  sought  to  fight  pitch- 
ed battles.  They  left  the  minor  services  to 
their  allies;  and  haughtily  reserved  them- 
selves for  the  master-strokes  by  which  em- 
pires are  lost  or  won.  The  humbler  hostili- 
ties, the  obscure  skirmishes  and  surprises, 
they  disdained  ; observing  that,  while  “ to 
steal  upon  men  was  the  work  of  a thief,  and 
to  butcher  them  was  the  habit  of  a barbarian ; 
to  fight  them  was  the  act  of  a soldier.” 


CHAPTER  XLI. 

At  the  close  of  a weary  day  we  reached 
our  final  station,  upon  the  hill  Scopas,  seven 
furlongs  from  Jerusalem.  Bitter  memory 
was  busy  with  me  there.  From  the  spot  on 
which  I flung  myself  in  heaviness  of  heart, 
■huddled  among  a crowd  of  miserable  captives, 
, and  wishing  only  that  the  evening  gathering 
; over  me  might  be  my  last,  I had  once  looked 
upon  the  army  of  the  oppressors  marching 
into  my  toils,  and  exulted  in  the  secure 
| glories  of  myself  and  my  country. 

But  the  prospect  now  beneath  the  eye 
showed  only  the  fiery  tract  of  invasion.  The 
pastoral  beauty  of  the  plain  was  utterly  gone. 
The  innumerable  garden-houses  and  summer 


134 


Salalhiel. 


dwellings  of  the  Jewish  nobles,  gleaming  in 
every  variety  of  graceful  architecture,  among 
vineyards  and  depths  of  aromatic  foliage, 
were  levelled  to  the  ground;  and  the  gar- 
dens turned  into  a sandy  waste,  cut  up  by 
trenches  and-military  works  in  every  direc- 
tion. In  the  midst  rose  the  great  Roman 
rampart,  which  Titus,  in  despair  of  conquer- 
ing the  city  by  the  svvord,  drew  round  it,  to 
extinguish  its  last  hope  of  provisions  or  rein- 
forcements; a hideous  boundary,  within  which 
all  was  to  be  the  sepulchre. 

I saw  Jerusalem  only  in  her  expiring 
struggle.  Others  have  given  the  history  of 
that  most  memorable  siege.  My  knowledge 
was  limited  to  the  last  hideous  days  of  an 
existence  long  declining,  and  finally  extin- 
guished in  horrors  beyond  the  imagination  of 
man. 

I knew  her  follies,  her  ingratitude,  her 
crimes  ; but  the  love  of  the  city  of  David  was 
deep  in  my  soul  ; her  lofty  privileges,  the 
proud  memory  of  those  who  had  made  her 
courts  glorious,  the  sage,  the  soldier,  and  the 
prophet,  lights  of  the  world,  to  which  the 
boasted  illumination  of  the  heathen  was  dark- 
ness, filled  my  spirit  with  an  immortal  hom- 
age. I loved  her  then,  I love  her  still. 

To  mingle  my  blood  with  that  of  my  per- 
ishing country  was  the  first  wish  of  my 
heart.  But  I was  under  the  rigor  of  confine- 
ment indicted  on  the  Jewish  prisoners.  My 
rank  was  known  ; and  while  it  produced  of- 
fers of  new  distinction  from  my  captors,  it 
increased  their  vigilance.  To  every  tempta- 
tion I gave  the  same  denial,  and  occupied 
my  hours  in  devices  for  escape.  In  the 
meanwhile,  I saw  with  terror  that  the  wall 
of  circumvallation  was  closing : and  that  a 
short  period  must  place  an  impassable  bar- 
rier between  me  and  the  city. 

After  a day  of  anxious  gazing  on  the  pro- 
gress of  this  wall  of  destiny,  I was  roused  at 
midnight  by  the  roaring  of  one  of  those  tem- 
pests, which  sometimes  break  in  so  fiercely 
upon  an  eastern  summer.  The  lightning 
struck  the  old  tower  in  which  I was  confined, 
and  I found  myself  riding  upon  a pile  of 
ruins.  Escape  in  the  midst  of  a Roman 
camp,  seemed  as  remote  as  ever.  But  the 
storm  which  shook  solid  walls,  made  its  way 
at  will  among  tents,  and  the  whole  encamp- 
ment was  broken  up.  A column  of  infantry 
passed  where  I was  extricating  myself  from 
the  ruins.  They  were  going  to  reinforce 
the  troops  in  the  trenches  against  the  chance 
of  an  attack  during  the  tempest.  I followed 
them.  The  night  was  terrible.  The  light- 
ning that  blazed  with  frightful  vividness, 
and  then  left  the  sky  to  tenfold  obscurity, 
led  us  through  the  lines.  The  column  was 
too  late,  and  it  found  the  beseiged  already 


mounted  upon  the  wall  of  circumvallation, 
and  flinging  it  down  in  huge  fragments. 
The  assault  and  defence  were  alike  despe- 
rate. The  night  grew  pitchy  dark,  and  the 
only  evidence  that  men  were  around  me, 
was  the  clang  of  arms. 

A sudden  flash  showed  me  that  I had 
reached  the  foot  of  the  rampart.  The  be- 
seiged, carried  away  by  their  native  impetu- 
osity, poured  down  in  crowds.  Their  leader, 
cheering  them  on,  was  struck  by  a lance  and 
fell.  The  sight  rallied  the  enemy.  I felt 
that  now  or  never  was  the  moment  for  my 
escape.  I rushed  in  front,  and  called  out 
my  name.  At  the  voice  the  wounded  leader 
uttered  a cry  which  I well  knew.  I caught 
him  from  the  ground.  A gigantic  centurion 
darted  forward,  and  grasped  my  robe.  Em- 
barrassed with  my  burden,  I was  on  the 
point  of  being  dragged  back  ; the  centurion’s 
sword  glittered  over  my  head.  With  my 
only  weapon,  a stone,  1 struck  him  a furious 
blow  on  the  forehead.  The  sword  .fell  from 
his  grasp ; I seized  it,  and  keeping  the  rest 
at  bay,  and  in  the  midst  of  shouts  from  my 
countrymen,  leaped  the  trench,  with  the 
nobler  trophy  in  my  arms.  I had  rescued 
Constantius ! 

Jerusalem  was  now  verging  on  the  last 
horrors.  I could  scarcely  find  my  way 
through  her  ruins.  The  noble  buildings  were 
destroyed  by  conflagration,  or  the  assaults  of 
the  various  factions.  The  monuments  of  our 
kings  and  tribes  were  lying  in  mutilation  at 
my  feet.  Every  man  of  former  eminence 
was  gone.  Massacre  and  exile  were  the 
masters  of  the  higher  ranks;  and  even  the 
accidental  distinctions  into  which  the  hum- 
bler in  birth  or  opulence  were  thrown  by  the 
few  past  years,  involved  a fearful  purchase 
of  public  hazard.  Like  men  in  an  earthquake, 
the  elevation  of  each  was  only  a sign  to  him 
of  the  working  of  an  irresistible  principle  of 
ruin.  But  the  most  formidable  characteristic 
was  the  change  wrought  upon  the  popular 
mind. 

A single  revolution  may  be  a source  of 
public  good.  But  a succession  of  great  politi- 
cal changes  is  fatal  alike  to  public  and  pri- 
vate virtues.  The  sense  of  honor  dies,  in 
the  fierce  pressures  of  personal  struggle. 
Humanity  dies,  in  the  sight  of  hourly  vio- 
lences. Conscience  dies,  in  the  conflict 
where  personal  safety  is  so  often  endangered, 
that  its  preservation  at  length  usurps  the  en- 
tire mind.  Religion  dies,  where  the  reli- 
gious man  is  so  often  the  victim  of  the  un- 
principled. Violence  and  vice  are  soon  found 
to  be  the  natural  instruments  of  triumph  in  a 
war  of  the  passions  ; and  the  more  relentless 
atrocity  carries  the  day,  until  selfishness,  the 
mother  of  treachery,  rapine,  and  carnage,  is 


Salathiel. 


135 


the  paramount  principle.  Then  the  nation 
perishes ; or  is  sent  forth  in  madness  and 
misery,  an  object  of  terror  and  infection,  to 
propagate  evil  through  the  world. 

The  very  features  of  the  popular  physiog- 
nomy were  changed.  The  natural  vividness 
of  the  countenance  was  there,  but  hardened 
and  clouded  hy  habitual  ferocity.  I was  sur- 
rounded by  a multitude,  in  each  of  whom  I 
was  compelled  to  see  the  assassin.  The 
keen  eye  scowled  with  cruelty ; the  cheek 
wore  the  alternate  flush  and  paleness  of  des- 
perate thoughts.  The  hurried  gathering — 
the  quick  quarrel — the  loud  blasphemy,  told 
me  of  the  infuriate  temper  that  had  fallen,  for 
the  last  curse,  on  Jerusalem.  Scarcely  a 
man  passed  me  of  whom  I could  not  have 
said  “ There  goes  one  from  a murder,  or  to  a 
murder.” 

But  more  open  evidences  startled  me,  ac- 
customed as  I was  to  scenes  of  military  vio- 
lence. I saw  men  stabbed  in  familiar  greet- 
ings in  the  streets;  mansions  set  on  fire  and 
burned  in  the  face  of  day,  with  their  inmates 
screaming  for  help,  and  yet  unhelped;  hun- 
dreds slain  in  rabble  tumults,  of  which  no 
one  knew  the  origin.  The  streets  were  cov- 
ered with  the  wrecks  of  pillage;  sumptuous 
furniture,  plundered  from  the  mansions  of  the 
great,  and  plundered  for  the  mere  love  of 
ruin,  mingled  with  more  hideous  wrecks  of 
man — unburied  bodies,  and  skeletons,  left 
to  whiten  in  the  blast,  or  to  be  torn  by  the 
dogs. 

Three  factions  divided  Jerusalem,  even 
while  the  Roman  battering-rams  were  shak- 
ing her  colossal  towers.  Three  armies  fought 
night  and  day  within  the  city,  carrying  on 
the  operations  of  war  with  more  than  civil 
fury.  Streets  undermined,  houses  battered 
down,  granaries  burned,  wells  poisoned,  the 
perpetual  shower  of  death  from  the  roofs, 
made  the  external  hostility  trivial : and  the 
Romans  required  only  patience  to  have 
been  bloodless  masters  of  a city,  which  yet 
they  would  have  found  only  a tomb  of  its 
people. 

I wandered,  an  utter  stranger,  through 
Jerusalem.  All  the  familiar  faces  were  gone. 
At  an  early  period  of  the  war  many  of  the 
higher  ranks,  foreseeing  the  event,  had  left 
the  city ; at  a later,  my  victory  over  Cestius, 
by  driving  back  the  enemy,  gave  a free  pas- 
sage to  a crowd  of  others.  It  was  at  that 
time  remarked  that  the  chief  fugitives  were 
Christians ; and  a singular  prophecy  of  their 
Master  was  declared  to  be  the  warning  of 
their  escape.  It  is  certain  that  of  his  follow- 
ers, including  many  even  of  our  priests  and  j 
learned  men,  scarcely  one  remained.  They 
declared  that  the  evil  menaced  by  the  Divine  j 
Wisdom  through  Moses — (may  he  rest  in 
glory !)  was  come ; that  the  death  of  their  1 


i Master  was  the  consummating  crime;  and 
| that,  in  the  Romans,  the  nation  “ of  a strange 
speech,”  flying  on  “ eagle  wings  from  the 
ends  of  the  earth,”  was  already  commissioned 
against  a people  stained  with  the  blood  of  the 
Messiah. 

Fatally  was  the  words  of  the  great  pro- 
phet of  Israel  accomplished  ; fearfully  fell 
the  sword  to  smite  away  root  and  branch ; 
solemnly,  and  by  a hand  which  scorned  the 
strength  of  man,  was  the  deluge  of  ruin  let 
loose  against  the  throne  of  David.  And  still, 
through  almost  two  thousand  years,  the  flood 
of  desolation  is  at  the  full ; no  mountain-top 
is  seen  rising;  no  spot  is  left  clear  for  the 
sole  of  the  Jewish  foot ; no  dove  returns  with 
the  olive.  Eternal  King,  shall  this  be  for 
ever  ! Wilt  thou  utterly  reject  the  children 
of  him  whom  thy  right  hand  brought  from 
the  land  of  the  idolater ! Wilt  thou  forever 
hide  thy  might  from  the  tribes  whom  thy 
servant  Moses  led  through  the  burning  wil- 
derness! Wilt  thou  not  bring  back  the 
broken  kingdom  of  thy  servant  Israel  1 Still 
we  wander  in  darkness,  the  tenants  of  a pri- 
son whose  walls  we  feel  at  every  step ; the 
j scoff  of  the  idolater ; the  captive  of  the  infi- 
del : have  we  not  abided  without  king  or 
priest,  or  ephod  or  teraphim,  many  days,  and 
when  are  those  days  to  be  at  an  end  ! 

Yet,  is  not  the  deluge  at  last  about  to  sub- 
side ! Is  not  the  trumpet  at  the  lip  to  sum- 
mon thy  chosen;  are  not  the  broken  tribes 
now  awaiting  thy  command  to  come  from 
the  desert — from  the  sea — from  the  dungeon 
— from  the  mine — like  the  light  from  dark- 
ness! I gaze  upon  the  stars,  and  think, 
countless  and  glorious  as  they  are,  such  shall 
yet  be  thy  multitude  and  thy  splendor,  peo- 
ple of  the  undone ! The  promise  of  the 
King  of  kings  is  fulfilling ; and  even  now, 
to  my  withered  eyes,  to  my  struggling  pray- 
er, to  the  deep  agonies  of  a supplication  that 
no  tongue  can  utter,  there  is  a vision  and  an 
answer.  On  my  knees,  worn  by  the  flint, 
I hear  the  midnight  voice;  and,  weeping, 
wait  for  the  day  that  will  come,  though  hea- 
ven and  earth  should  pass  away. 


CHAPTER  XLII. 

Mv  first  object  was  to  ascertain  the  fate 
of  my  family.  From  Constantius  I could  learn 
I nothing ; for  the  severity  of  his  wound  had  re- 
j duced  him  to  such  a state,  that  he  recognized 
| no  one.  I sat  by  him  day  after  day,  watching 
with  bitter  solicitude  for  the  return  of  his 
' senses.  He  raved  continually  of  his  wife,  and 


^36 


Salathiel. 


every  other  name  that  I loved.  The  affecting 
eloquence  of  his  appeals  sometimes  pi  unged  me 
into  the  deepest  depression ; sometimes  drove 
me  out  to  seek  relief  from  them  even  in  the  hor- 
rors of  the  streets  ; I was  the  most  solitary  of 
men.  In  those  melancholy  wanderings,  none 
spoke  to  me ; I spoke  to  none.  The  kinsmen 
whom  I had  left  under  the  command  of  my  brave 
son,  were  slain  or  dispersed;  and  on  the  night 
when  I saw  him  battling  with  his  native  ardor, 
the  men  whom  he  led  to  the  foot  of  the  ram- 
part were  an  accidental  band,  excited  by  his 
brilliant  intrepidity  to  choose  him  at  the  in- 
stant for  their  captain.  In  sorrow,  indeed,  had 
I entered  Jerusalem. 

The  devastation  of  the  city  was  enormous 
during  its  tumults.  The  great  factions  were 
reduced  to  two;  but  in  the  struggle,  a large 
portion  of  the  temple  was  burned.  The 
stately  chambers  of  the  priests  were  dust  and 
embers.  The  cloisters  which  encircled  the 
sanctuary  were  beaten  down,  or  left  naked  to 
the  visitation  of  the  seasons,  which  now,  as 
by  the  peculiar  wrath  of  heaven,  had  assumed 
a fierce  and  ominous  inclemency.  Tremen- 
dous bursts  of  tempest  shook  the  city ; and 
the  popular  mind  was  kept  in  perpetual  alarm 
at  the  accidents  which  followed  those  storms. 
Fires  were  constantly  caused  by  the  lightning; 
deluges  of  rain  flooded  the  streets,  and  falling 
on  the  shattered  roofs,  increased  the  misery 
of  their  famishing  inhabitants;  the  keenest 
severity  of  winter  in  the  midst  of  spring, 
added  to  the  sufferings  of  a people  doubly  un- 
provided to  encounter  it,  by  its  unexpected- 
ness, and  by  their  necessary  exposure  on  the 
battlements  and  in  the  field. 

Within  the  walls  all  bore  the  look  of  a 
grave,  and  even  that  grave  shaken  by  some 
convulsion  of  nature.  From  the  battlements 
the  sight  was  despair.  The  Roman  camps 
covered  the  hills,  and  we  could  see  the  sol- 
diery sharpening  the  very  lances  that  were  to 
drink  our  blood.  The  fires  of  their  night- 
watches  lighted  up  the  horizon  round.  At 
every  fire  we  could  see  our  future  slayers. — 
We  heard  the  sound  of  their  trumpets  and 
their  shouts;  as  the  sheep  in  the  fold  might 
hear  the  roaring  of  the  lion  and  the  tiger 
ready  to  leap  their  feeble  boundary. 

Yet  the  valor  of  the  people  was  never  wea- 
ried out.  The  wall,  whose  circle  was  to  shut 
us  up  from  the  help  of  man  or  the  hope  of  es- 
cape, was  the  grand  object  of  attack  and  de- 
fence; and,  though  thousands  covered  the 
ground  at  its  foot  with  their  corpses,  the  Jew 
was  still  ready  to  rush  on  the  Roman  spear. 
This  valor  was  spontaneous,  for  subordination 
had  long  been  at  an  end.  The  names  of  John 
of  Giscala  and  Simon,  influential  as  they  were 
in  the  earlier  periods  of  the  war,  had  lost  their 
force  in  the  civil  fury  and  desperate  pressures 
of  the  siege.  No  leaders  were  acknowledged 


but  hatred  of  the  enemy,  iron  fortitude,  and  a 
determination  not  to  survive  the  fall  of  Jeru- 
salem. 

In  this  furious  warfare  I took  my  share  with 
die  rest;  handled  the  spear,  and  fought  and 
watched,  without  thinking  of  any  distinction 
of  rank.  My  military  experience,  and  the 
personal  strength  which  enabled  me  to  render 
prominent  services  in  those  desultory  attacks, 
often  excited  our  warriors  to  offer  me  com- 
mand : but  ambition  was  dead  within  me. 

I was  one  day  sitting  beside  the  bed  of  Con- 
stantius,  and  bitterly  absorbed  in  gazing  on 
what  I thought  the  progress  of  death,  when  I 
heard  a universal  outcry,  more  melancholy 
than  human  voices  seemed  made  to  utter. — 
My  first  thought  was  that  the  enemy  had 
forced  the  gates.  I took  down  my  sword,  and 
gloomily  prepared  to  go  out  and  die.  I found 
the  streets  filled  with  crowds  hurrying  for- 
ward without  apparent  direction,  but  all  ex- 
hibiting a sorrow  amounting  to  agony;  wring- 
ing their  hands,  beating  their  bosoms,  tearing 
their  hair,  and  casting  dust  and  ashes  on  their 
heads.  A large  body  of  the  priesthood  came 
rushing  from  the  tertiple  with  loud  lamenta- 
tions. The  Daily  Sacrifice  had  ceased  ! — 
The  perpetual  offering,  which  twice  a day 
burned  in  testimonial  of  the  sins  and  the  ex- 
piation of  Israel,  the  peculiar  homage  of  the 
nation  to  heaven,  was  no  more ! The  siege 
had  extinguished  the  resources  of  the  Tem- 
ple; the  victims  could  no  longer  be  supplied, 
and  the  people  must  perish  without  the  power 
of  atonement.  This  was  the  final  cutting  off 
— the  declaration  of  the  sentence — the  seal 
of  the  great  condemnation.  Jerusalem  was 
undone ! 

Overpowered  by  this  fatal  sign,  I was  sadly 
returning  to  my  worse  than  solitary  chamber ; 
for  there  lay,  speechless  and  powerless,  the 
noblest  creature  that  breathed  in  Jerusalem  : 
yet  a source  of  perpetual  anxiety  to  me  from 
his  utter  helplessness,  and  the  deep  affection 
which  I bore  him  ; when  I was  driven  aside 
by  a new  torrent  of  the  people,  exclaiming — 
“ The  prophet ! the  prophet ! woe  to  the  city 
of  David  !” 

They  rushed  on  in  haggard  multitudes ; and 
in  the  midst  of  them  came  a mad  fellow, 
bounding  and  gesticulating  with  indescribable 
wildness.  His  constant  exclamation  was — 
“ Woe — woe — \Voe !”  expressed  in  a tone  that 
searched  the  very  heart.  He  stopped  from 
time  to  time,  and  flung  out  some  denunciation 
against  the  popular  crimes,  then  recommenced 
the  cry  of  “ Woe !”  and  bounded  forward 
again. 

He  at  length  came  opposite  to  where  I 
stood;  and  his  features  struck  me  as  resem- 
bling some  that  1 had  seen  before.  But  they 
were  full  of  a strange  impulse — the  gran- 
deur of  inspiration,  mingled  with  the  animal 


Salathiel. 


<>37 


fierceness  of  frenzy.  The  eye  shot  fire  un- 
der the  sharp  and  hollow  brows ; the  nostrils 
contracted  and  opened  like  those  of  an  angry 
steed  ; and  every  muscle  of  a singularly  elas- 
tic frame  was  quivering  and  exposed  from  trie 
effects  alike  of  mental  violence  and  famine. 

“Ho!  Prince  of  Naphtali!  we  meet  at 
last !”  was  his  exclamation  : his  countenance 
fell ; and  a tear  gushed  from  lids  that  looked 
incapable  of  human  weakness.  “ I found  her, 
my  beauty,  my  bride  ! She  was  in  the  dun- 
geon. The  seal-ring  that  I tore  from  that 
villain’s  finger  was  worth  a mine  of  gold,  for 
it  opened  the  gates  of  her  prison.  Come  forth, 
girl !”  With  these  words  he  caught  by  the 
hand,  and  led  to  me  a pale  creature,  with  the 
traces  of  loveiiness,  but  evidently  in  the  last 
stage  of  mortal  decay.  She  stood  silent  as  a 
statue.  In  compassion  I took  her  hand,  while 
the  multitude  gathered  round  us  in  curiosity. 
I now  remembered  Sabat  the  Ishmaelite,  and 
his  story. 

“ She  is  mad,”  said  Sabat,  shaking  his  head 
mournfully,  and  gazing  on  the  fading  form  at 
his  side.  “ Worlds  would  not  restore  her 
senses.  But  there  is  a time  for  all  things.” 
He  sighed,  and  cast  his  full  eye  on  heaven. — 
“ I watched  her  day  and  night,”  he  went  on, 
“till  I grew  mad  too.  But  the  world  will 
have  an  end,  and  then  all  will  be  well.  Come, 
wife,  we  must  be  going.  To-night  there  are 
strange  things  within  the  walls,  and  without 
the  walls.  There  will  be  feasting  and  mourn- 
ing ; there  will  be  blood  and  tears : then  comes 
the  famine — then  comes  the  fire — then  the 
sword;  and  then  all  is  quiet  again,  and  for- 
ever ! But  heaven  is  mighty.  To-night  there 
will  be  wonders;  watch  well  your  walls,  peo- 
ple of  the  ruined  city.  To-night  there  will 
be  signs ; let  no  man  sleep,  but  those  that 
sleep  in  the  grave.  Prince  of  Naphtali! — 
have  you  too  sworn,  as  I have,  to  die  7”  He 
lifted  his  meagre  hand. 

“Come,  ye  thunders;  come,  ye  fires':  ven- 
geance cries  from  the  sanctuary.  Listen ! 
undone  people;  listen!  nation  of  sorrow,  to 
the  trumpets  of  the  ministers  of  wrath.  Woe 
— woe — woe  !” 

Pronouncing  those  words  with  a voice  of 
the  most  sonorous,  yet  melancholy  power,  he 
> threw  himself  into  a succession  of  strange 
and  fearful  gestures ; then  beckoning  to  the 
female  who  submissively  followed  his  steps, 
i plunged  away  among  the  multitude.  I heard 
i the  howl  of  “Woe — woe — woe!”  long  ech- 
! oed  through  the  windings  of  the  ruined  streets; 
i and  thought  that  I heard  the  voice  of  the  an- 
: gel  of  desolation. 

1 The  seventeenth  day  of  the  month  Tamuz, 

. ever  memorable  in  the  sufferings  of  Israel, 

? was  the  last  of  the  Daily  Sacrifice.  Sorrow 
r.  and  fear  were  on  the  city;  and  the  siler.ceof 
i the  night  was  broken  by  lamentation  from  the 


multitude.  I retired  to  my  chamber  of  afflic- 
tion, and  busied  myself  in  preparing  for  the 
guard  of  the  Temple,  to  withdraw  my  mind 
’ from  the  gloom  that  was  beginning  to  master 
me.  Yet  when  I looked  round  the  room,  and 
thought  of  what  I had  been,  of  the  opulent 
enjoyments  of  my  palace,  and  of  the  beloved 
faces  that  surrounded  me  there,  1 felt  the  sick- 
ness of  the  heart. 

The  chilling  air  that  blew  through  the  di- 
lapidated walls,  the  cruse  of  water,  the  scanty 
bread,  the  glimmering  lamp,  the  comfortless 
and  squallid  bed,  on  which  lay,  in  the  last 
stage  of  weakness,  a patriot  and  a hero, — be- 
ing full  of  fine  affections  and  abilities,  reduced 
to  the  helplessness  of  an  infant,  and  whom,  in 
leaving  for  the  night,  f might  be  leaving  to 
perish  by  the  poniard  of  the  robber, — un- 
manned me.  I cast  the  scimetar  from  my 
hand,  and  sat  down  with  a sullen  determina- 
tion there  to  linger  until  death,  or  that  darker 
vengeance  which  haunted  me,  should  do  its 
will. 

The  night  was  stormy,  and  the  wind  rolled 
in  long  and  bitter  gusts  through  the  deserted 
chambers  of  the  huge  mansion.  But  the 
mind  is  the  true  place  of  suffering;  and  I felt 
the  season’s  visitation  in  my  locks  drenched 
about  my  face,  and  my  tattered  robes  swept  by 
tne  freezing  blasts,  as  only  the  natural  course 
of  things. 

I was  sitting  by  the  bed-side,  moistening 
the  fevered  lips  of  Constantius  with  water, 
and  pressing  on  h im  the  last  fragment  of  bread 
which  I might  ever  have  to  give,  when  I,  with 
sudden  delight,  heard  him  utter  for  the  first 
time  articulate  sounds.  I stooped  my  ear  to 
catch  accents  so  dear  and  full  of  hope.  But 
the  words  were  a supplication.  He  prayed 
to  the  Christian’s  God  ! 

I turned  away  from  this  resistless  conviction 
of  his  belief.  But  this  was  no  time  for  de- 
bate, and  I was  won  to  listen  again.  His 
voice  was  scarcely  above  a whisper,  but  his 
language  was  the  aspiration  of  a glowing 
heart.  His  eves  were  closed ; and  evidently 
unconscious  of  my  presence,  in  his  high  com- 
munion with  heaven,  he  talked  of  things  of 
which  I had  but  imperfect  knowledge,  or 
none  ; of  blond  shed  for  the  sins  of  man  ; of  a 
descended  Spirit  to  guard  the  path  of  the  ser- 
vants of  heaven  ; of  the  unspeakable  love  that 
gave  the  Son  of  God  to  torture  and  mortal 
death  for  the  atonement  of  that  human  ini- 
quity, which  nothing  but  such  a sacrifice  could 
atone.  He  named  the  names  dear  to  us  both  ; 
and  praying  “ for  their  safety,  if  they  were 
in  life,  or  for  their  meeting  beyond  the  grave, 
resigned  himself  to  the  will  of  his  Lord.” 

I waited  in  sacred  awe  till  I saw,  by  the 
subsiding  motion  of  the  lips,  that  the  inward 
prayer  which  followed  was  done  ; and  then, 
anxious  to  gain  information  of  my  family, 


138 


Salathiel. 


questioned  him.  But,  with  the  prayer,  the 
interval  of  mental  power  passed  away.  The 
veil  was  drawn  over  his  senses  once  more ; 
and  his  answers  were  unintelligible. 

Yet  even  the  hope  of  his  restoration  light- 
ened my  gloom  ; my  spirits,  naturally  elastic, 
shook  off  their  leaden  weight : I took  up  the 
scimetar,  and  pressing  the  cold  hand  of  my 
noble  fellow-being,  prepared  to  issue  forth  to 
the  Temple. 

The  storm  was  partially  gone;  and  the 
moon,  approaching  to  the  full,  was  high  in 
heaven,  fighting  her  way  through  masses  of 
rapid  cloud.  The  wind  still  roared  in  long 
blasts,  as  the  tempest  retired,  like  an  army 
repulsed  and  indignant  at  being  driven  from 
the  spoil.  But  the  ground  was  deluged,  and 
a bitter  sleet  shot  on  our  half-naked  bodies. 
I had  far  to  pass  through  the  streets  of  the 
upper  city ; and  their  aspect  was  deeply 
suited  to  the  melancholy  of  the  hour. 

Vast  walls  and  buttresses  of  the  burned 
and  overthrown  mansions  remained,  that,  in 
the  spectral  light,  looked  like  gigantic  spec- 
tres. Ranges  of  inferior  ruins  stretched  to 
the  utmost  glance;  some  yet  sending  up  the 
smoke  of  recent  conflagration,  and  others 
beaten  down  by  the  storms,  or  left  to  decay. 
The  immense  buildings  of  the  chieftains, 
once  the  scenes  of  all  but  kingly  magnifi- 
cence, stood  roofless  and  windowless,  with  the 
light  sadly  gleaming  through  their  fissures, 
and  the  wind  singing  a dirge  of  ruin  through 
their  lifeless  halls.  I scarcely  met  a human 
being,  for  the  sword  and  famine  had  fearfully 
reduced  the  once  countless  population. 

But  I sometimes  startled  a flight  of  vul- 
tures from  their  meal;  or,  in  the  sinking  of 
the  light,  stumbled  upon  a heap  that  uttered 
a cry,  and  showed  that  life  was  there;  or, 
from  his  horrid  morsel,  a wretch  glared  upon 
me,  as  one  wolf  might  glare  upon  another) 
that  came  to  rob  him  of  his  prey;  or,  the, 
twinkling  of  a miserable  lamp,  in  the  corner . 
of  a ruin,  glimmered  over  a knot  of  felony; 


and  murder,  reckoning  their  hideous  gains, 
and  carousing  and  quarrelling  with  the  dag- 
ger drawn.  Heaps  of  bones,  whitening  in  the 
air,  were  the  monuments  of  the  wasted  valor 
of  my  countrymen ; and  the  oppressive  at- 
mosphere gave  the  sensation  of  walking  in  a 
sepulchre. 

I dragged  on  my  limbs,  with  increased 
difficulty,  through  those  long  avenues  of  mis- 
ery and  death ; that,  black,  silent,  and  split 
into  a thousand  shapes  of  ruin,  looked  less 
like  the  streets  of  a city,  than  the  rocky  de- 
files of  a mountain  shattered  by  lightnings 
and  earthquakes.  But  we  were  strong  in 
that  dreary  strength  which  man  derives  from 
excess  of  calamity.  Mental  and  bodily  suf- 
fering seemed  to  have  done  their  worst. 
Within  the  city  there  was  not  sustenance  for 
the  tenth  part  of  even  its  reduced  population 
for  a week  to  come : our  armories  were  ex- 
hausted— our  bodies  naked — our  limbs  with- 
ered by  perpetual  wounds  and  watching.  I 
should  have  welcomed  the  assault  which 
closed  this  lamentable  struggle  against  im- 
possibilities. 

On  the  summit  of  the  hill  I found  a crowd 
of  unhappy  beings,  who  came,  like  myself, 
actuated  by  zeal  to  defend  the  Temple  from 
the  insults  to  which  its  sanctity  was  now  j 
nightly  exposed.  Faction  had  long  extin-  I 
guished  the  native  homage  of  the  people. 
Battles  had  been  fought  within  its  walls,  and 
many  a corpse  loaded  the  sacred  floors,  that 
once  would  have  required  solemn  ceremonies 
to  free  them  from  the  pollution  of  an  unli- 
censed step. 

And  what  a band  were  assembled  there! 
Wretches  mutilated  by  wounds,  worn  with 
sleeplessness,  haggard  with  want  of  food; 
shivering  together  on  the  declivity,  whose 
naked  elevation  exposed  them  to  the  whole 
inclemency  of  the  night;  flung,  like  the 
dead,  on  the  ground,  or  gathered  in  little 
knots  among  the  ruined  porticoes,  with 
death  in  every  frame,  and  despair  in  every 
heart. 


The  Downfall  of  Jerusalem. 


139 


,| 

i 


1 

,1 


# * # # # 

* * * * * 

* # * * * 

I was  sheltering  myself  behind  the  broken 
columns  of  the  Grand  gate,  from  the  bitter 
wind  which  searched  every  fibre;  and  wassink- 
ing  into  that  chilling  torpor  which  benumbs 
body  and  mind  alike;  when  a clash  of  milita- 
ry music  and  the  tramp  of  a multitude  assailed 
my  ear.  I started  up,  and  found  my  misera- 
ble companions  mustering  from  the  various 
hollows  of  the  hill  to  our  post  on  the  central 
ground  of  Mount  Moriah,  where  the  view  was 
boundless  on  every  side.  A growing  blaze 
rose  up  from  the  valley,  and  flashed  upon  the 
wall  ofcircumvallation.  The  sounds  of  cym- 
bal and  trumpet  swelled : the  blaze  advanced 
rapidly;  and  going  the  circuit  of  the  wall, 
the  helmets  and  lances  of  the  cavalry  were 
seen  glittering  through  the  gloom:  a crowd 
of  archers  preceded  a dense  body  of  the  le- 
gionary horse,  at  whose  head  rode  the  Roman 
general  and  his  chief  officers.  On  this  night 
the  fatal  wall  had  been  completed,  and  Titus 
was  going  its  round  in  triumph.  Every  horse- 
man carried'a  torch;  and  strong  divisions  of 
infantry  followed,  bearing  lamps  and  vessels 
of  combustible  matter  on  the  points  of  their 
spears.  As  the  whole  moved,  rolling  and 
bending  with  the  inequalities  of  the  ground, 
I thought  that  I saw  a mighty  serpent  coiling 
his  burning  spires  round  the  prey  that  was 
never  to  be  rescued  by  the  power  of  man. 

But  the  pomp  of  war  below,  and  the  wretch- 
edness around,  raised  reflections  of  such  bitter- 
ness, that,  when  Titus  and  his  splendid  troop 
reached  the  foot  of  the  Temple-hill,  one  out- 
cry of  sorrow  and  anticipated  ruin  burst  from 
us  all.  The  conqueror  heard  it,  and,  from 
the  instant  manoeuvring  of  his  troops,  was 
evidently  alarmed ; he  had  known  the  courage 
of  the  Jews  too  long,  not  to  dread  the  effects 
of  their  despair. 

And  despair  it  was,  fierce  and  untameable! 
I started  forward,  exclaiming,  “If  there  is  a 
man  among  you  ready  to  stake  his  life  for  his 
country,  let  him  follow  me.” 

To  the  last  hour  the  Jew  was  a warrior. 
The  crowd  grasped  their  spears,  and  we 
sprang  down  the  cliffs.  As  we  reached  the 
outer  wall  of  the  city,  I restrained  their  ex- 
haustless spirit,  until  I had  singly  ascertained 
the  state  of  the  enemy.  Titus  was  passing 
the  well  known  ravine  near  the  Fountain-gate, 
where  the  ground  was  difficult  for  cavalry, 
from  its  being  chiefly  divided  into  gardens. — 
I threw  open  the  gate,  and  led  the  way  to 
tne  cireumvallation.  The  sentinels,  occupied 
with  looking  on  the  pomp,  suffered  us  to  ap- 
proach unperceived ; we  mounted  the  wall, 
10 


overthrew  every  thing  before  us,  and  plunged 
down  upon  the  cavalry  entangled  in  the  ra- 
vine. 

The  bravery  of  the  legions  was  not  proof 
against  the  fury  of  our  attack.  Even  our 
wild  faces  and  naked  forms,  seen  by  the  un- 
certain glare  of  the  torches,  looked  scarcely 
human.  Horse  and  man  were  rolled  down 
the  declivity;  the  arrival  of  fresh  troops  only 
increased  the  confusion  ; their  torches  made 
them  a mark  for  our  pikes  and  arrows;  every 
point  told  ; and  every  Roman  that  fell,  armed 
a Jew.  The  conflict  became  murderous:  and 
we  stabbed  at  our  ease  the  troopers  of  the 
Emperor’s  guard,  through  their  mail,  while 
their  long  lances^ivere  useless. 

The  defile  gave  us  incalculable  advantages; 
for  the  garden  walls  were  impassable  by  the 
cavalry,  while  we  bounded  over  them  like 
deer.  All  was  uproar,  terror,  and  rage.  We 
actually  waded  through  blood.  At  every 
step  I trod  on  horse  or  man;  helmets  and 
bucklers,  lances  and  armor,  lay  in  heaps;  the 
stream  of  the  ravine  soon  ran  purple  with  the 
proudest  gore  of  the  prond  legions. 

At  length,  while  we  were  absolutely  op- 
pressed with  the  multitude  of  dead,  a sudden 
blast  of  trumpets,  and  the  loud  shouts  of  the  en- 
emy, led  me  to  prepare  fora  still  fiercer  effort. 
A tide  of  cavalry  poured  over  theground;  a gal- 
lant figure,  cheering  them  on,  with  his  helmet 
in  his  hand,  galloped  in  their  front;  I withdrew 
my  wearied  followers  from  the  exposed  situa- 
tion into  which  their  success  had  led  them, 
and,  posting  them  behind  a rampart  of  Ro- 
man dead,  awaited  the  charge. 

It  came  with  the  force  of  thunder;  the 
powerful  horses  of  the  imperial  escort  broke 
over  our  rampart  at  the  first  shock,  and  bore 
us  down  like  stubble.  Every  man  of  us  was 
under  their  feet  in  a moment;  yet  the  very 
number  of  our  assailants  saved  us:  the  narrow- 
ness of  the  place  gave  no  room  for  the  man- 
agement of  the  horse;  the  darkness  assisted 
both  our  escape  and  assault;  and,  even  lying 
on  the  ground,  we  plunged  our  knives  in  horse 
and  rider  with  terrible  retaliation. 

The  cavalry  at  length  gave  way;  but  the 
Roman  general,  a man  of  the  heroic  spirit 
that  is  only  inflamed  by  repulse,  rushed  forward 
among  the  disheartened  troops,  and  roused 
them  °by  his  cries  and  gestures,  to  retrieve 
their  honor.  After  a few  bold  words,  he 
charged  at  their  head.  I singled  him  out,  as 
I saw  his  golden  eagle  gleam  in  the  torch- 
light. To  capture  the  son  of  Vespasian, 
would  have  been  a triumph  worth  a hundred 
lives.  Titus  was  celebrated  for  personal  dex- 
terity in  the  management  of  the  horse  and 
lance:  and  I could  not  restrain  my  admiration 
of  the  skill  with  which  he  penetrated  the  dif- 
ficulties of  the  field,  and  the  mastery  with 


The  Downfall  of  Jerusalem. 


which  he  repelled  or  overthrew  all  that  op- 
posed him. 

Our  motley  ranks  were  already' scattering; 
when  I called  out  my  name,  and  defied  him 
to  the  combat.  He  stooped  over  his  charger’s 
neck  to  discover  his  adversary ; and,  seeing 
before  him  a being  as  blackened  and  beggared 
as  the  most  dismantled  figure  of  the  crowd, 
gave  a laugh  of  fierce  derision,  and  was  turn- 
ing away,  when  our  roar  of  scorn  recalled  him. 
He  struck  in  the  spur,  and,  couching  his  lance, 
he  bounded  towards  me.  To  have  waited  his 
attack  must  have  been  destruction ; I sprang 
aside,  and  with  my  full  vigor  flung  the  javelin : 
it  went  through  his  buckler.  He  reeled ; and  a 
groan  arose  from  the  legionaries,  who  were 
rushing  forward  to  his  support : he  stopped 
them  with  a fierce  gesture,  and,  casting  off 
the  entangled  buckler,  charged  again.  But 
the  hope  of  the  imperial  diadem  was  not  to  be 
thus  cheaply  hazarded.  The  whole  circle  of 
cavalry  rolled  in  upon  us ; I was  dragged  down 
by  an  hundred  hands ; and  Titus  was  forced 
away,  indignant  at  the  zeal  which  thwarted 
his  fiery  valor. 

In  the  confusion  I was  forgotten,  slipped 
through  the  concourse,  and  rejoined  my  coun- 
trymen, who  had  given  me  over  for  lost,  and 
now  received  me  with  shouts  of  victory.  The 
universal  cry  was  to  advance ; but  I felt  that 
the  limit  of  triumph  for  that  night  was  come : 
the  engagement  had  became  known  to  the 
whole  range  of  the  enemy’s  camps,  and  troops 
without  number  were  already  pouring  down. 
I ordered  a retreat ; but  there  was  one  remain- 
ing exploit  to  make  the  night’s  service  mem- 
orable. 

Leaving  a few  hundred  pikemen  outside 
the  circumvallation  to  keep  off  any  sudden 
attempt,  I set  every  hand  at  work  to  gather 
the  dry  weeds,  rushes,  and  fragments  of  trees, 
from  the  low  grounds  into  a pile.  It  was  l»id 
against  the  rampart.  I flung  the  first  torch, 
and  pile  and  rampart  were  soon  alike  in  a 
blaze.  Volumes  of  flames  carried  by  the  wind, 
rolled  round  its  entire  circuit 

The  Romans  rushed  down  in  multitudes  to 
extinguish  the  fire.  But  this  became  contin- 
ually more  difficult.  Jerusalem  had  been 
roused  from  its  sleep;  and  the  extravagant 
rumors  that  a great  victory  was  obtained,  Ti- 
tus slain,  and  the  enemy’s  camp  taken  by 
storm,  stimulated  the  natural  spirit  of  the 
people  to  the  most  boundless  confidence.  Ev- 
ery Jew  who  could  find  a lance,  an  arrow,  or 
a knife,  hurried  to  the  gates ; and  the  space 
between  the  walls  and  the  circumvallation 
was  crowded  with  an  army,  which,  in  that 
crisis  of  superhuman  exultation,  perhaps  no 
disciplined  force  on  earth  could  have  out- 
fought. 

Nothing  could  now  save  the  rampart. — 
Torches  innumerable,  piles  of  faggots,  arms, 


even  the  dead,  all  things  that  could  burn, 
were  flung  upon  it.  Thousands  who,  at 
other  times  might  have  shrunk,  forgot  the 
name  of  fear,  leaped  into  the  very  midst  of 
the  flames,  and,  tearing  up  the  blazing  tim- 
bers, dug  to  the  heart  of  the  rampart,  and 
filled  the  hollows  with  sulphur  and  bitumen ; 
or  struggled  their  way  across  the  tumbling 
ruins,  to  throw  themselves  among  the  Ro- 
man spearmen,  and  see  the  blood  of  an  ene- 
my before  they  died. 

War  never  had  a bolder  moment.  Human 
nature,  roused  to  the  wildest  height  of  enthu- 
siasm, was  lavishing  life  like  dust.  The  ram- 
part spread  a horrid  light  upon  the  havoc : 
every  spot  of  the  battle,  every  group  of  the 
furious  living,  and  the  trampled  and  deformed 
dead,  was  keenly  visible.  The  ear  was  deaf- 
ened by  the  incessant  roar  of  flame,  ttfe  fall- 
ing of  the  huge  heaps  of  the  rampart,  and  the 
agonies  and  exultations  of  men  reveling  in 
mutual  slaughter. 

In  that  hour  came  on  one  of  those  solemn 
signs  that  marked  the  downfall  of  Jerusalem. 

The  tempest,  that  had  blown  at  intervals 
with  tremendous  violence,  diedaway  at  once ; 
and  a surge  of  light  ascended  from  the  hori- 
zon, and  rolled  up  rapidly  to  the  zenith.  The 
phenomenon  instantly  fixed  every  eye.  There  . 
was  an  indefinable  sense  in  the  general  mind 
that  a sign  of  power  and  Providence  was 
about  to  be  given.  The  battle  ceased;  the 
outcries  were  followed  by  utter  silence ; the 
armed  ranks  stood  still,  in  the  very  act  of 
rushing  on  each  other : all  faces  were  turned 
on  the  heavens. 

The  light  rose  pale  and  quivering,  like  the 
meteors  of  a summer  evening.  But  in  the 
zenith  it  spread  and  swelled  into  a splendor, 
that  distinguished  it  irresistibly  from  the  won- 
ders of  earth  or  air.  It  swiftly  eclipsed  every 
star.  The  moon  vanished  before  it ; the  can- 
opy of  the  sky  seemed  to  be  dissolved,  for  a 
view  into  a bright  and  infinite  region  beyond, 
fit  for  the  career  of  those  mighty  beings  to 
whom  man  is  but  a feather  on  the  gale. 

As  we  gazed,  this  boundless  field  was  trans- 
formed into  a field  of  battle ; multitudes 
poured  across  it  in  the  fiercest  convulsions 
of  combat ; horsemen  charged,  and  died  under 
their  horses’  feet ; armor  and  standards  were 
trampled  in  blood ; column  and  line  burst 
through  each  other.  At  length  the  battle 
stooped  towards  the  earth  ; and,  with  hearts 
beating  with  indescribable  feelings,  we  recog- 
nized in  the  fight  the  banners  of  the  tribes. 

It  was  Jew  and  Roman  struggling  for  life; 
the  very  countenances  of  the  combatants  be- 
came visible,  an each  man  below  saw  a 
representative  of  himself  and  his  fortunes 
above.  The  fate  of  Jewish  war  was  there 
written  by  the  hand  of  Heaven ; the  fate  of 
the  individual  was  there  predicted  in  the  in- 


Salathiel. 


141 


dividual  triumph  or  fall.  What  thought  of 
man  can  conceive  the  intense  interest  with 
which  we  watched  every  blow,  every  move- 
ment, every  wound  of  those  images  of  our- 
selves 1 

The  light  illuminated  the  whole  horizon 
below.  The  legions  were  seen  drawn  out  in 
front  of  the  camps  ready  for  action;  every 
helmet  and  spear-point  glittering  in  the  radi- 
ance ; every  face  turned  up,  gazing  in  awe 
and  terror  on  the  sky.  The  tents  spreading 
over  the  hills;  the  thousands  and  the  tens  of 
thousands  of  auxiliaries  and  captives;  the 
little  groups  of  the  peasantry  roused  from 
sleep  by  the  uproar  of  the  night,  and  gathered 
upon  the  knolls'  and  eminences  of  their 
fields ; all  were  bathed  in  a flood  of  preter- 
natural lustre. 

But  the  wohderous  battle  approached  its 
close.  The  visionary  Romans  shook;  col- 
umn and  cohort  gave  way,  and  the  banners 
of  the  tribes  waved  in  victory  over  the  field. 
Then,  first,  human  voices  dared  to  be  heard. 
Prom  the  city  and  the  plain  burst  forth  one 
mighty  shout  of  triumph. 


But  our  presumption  was  to  be  soon  check- 
ed. A peal  of  thunder  that  made»the  very 
ground  tremble  under  our  feet,  rolled  from 
the  four  quarters  of  the  heaven.  The  con- 
quering host  shook,  broke,  and  fled  in  utter 
confusion  over  the  sapphire  field.  It  was 
pursued  ; but  by  no  semblance  of  the  Roman. 
An  awful  enemy  was  on  its  steps.  Flashes 
of  forked  fire,  like  myriads  of  lances,  darted 
after  it;  cloud  on  cloud  deepened  down,  as 
the  smoke  of  a mighty  furnace;  globes  of 
light  shot  blasting  and  burning  along  its 
track.  Then,  amid  the  doubled  roar  of  thun- 
der, rushed  forth  the  chivalry  of  Heaven ; 
shapes  of  transcendent  beauty,  yet  with  looks 
of  wrath  that  withered  the  human  eye ; arm- 
ed sons  of  immortality  descended  on  the 
wing  by  millions ; mingled  with  shapes  and 
instruments  of  ruin,  for  which  the  mind  has 
no  conception.  The  circle  of  the  heaven 
was  filled  with  the  chariots  and  horses  of 
fire.  Flight  was  in  vain : the  weapons  were 
soon  to  drop  from  the  Jewish  host:  their 
warriors  sank  upon  the  splendid  field.  Still 
the  immortal  armies  poured  on,  trampling 
and  blasting,  until  the  last  of  the  routed  was 
consumed. 

The  angry  pomp  then  paused.  Countless 
wings  were  spread,  and  the  angelic  multi- 
tude, having  done  the  work  of  vengeance, 
rushed  upward  with  the  sound  of  ocean  in 
the  storm.  The  roar  of  trumpets  and  thun- 
ders was  heard  until  the  splendor  was  lost  in 

.e  heights  of  the  empyrean. 

W e felt  the  terrible  warning.  Our  strength  I 


was  dried  up  at  the  sight;  despair  seized 
upon  our  souls.  We  had  now  seen  the  fate 
of  Jerusalem.  No  victory  over  man  could 
save  us  from  the  coming  of  final  ruin.  Thou- 
sands never  left  the  ground  on  which  they 
stood ; they  perished  by  their  own  hands,  or 
lay  down  and  died  of  broken  hearts.  The 
rest  fled  through  the  night,  that  again  wrap- 
ped them  in  tenfold  darkness.  The  wholo 
multitude  scattered  away,  with  soundless 
steps  and  in  silence  like  an  army  of  spec- 
tres. 


CHAPTER  XLI1I. 


In  the  deepest  dejection  that  could  over- 
whelm the  human  mind  I returned  to  the 
city,  where  one  melancholy  care  still  bound 
me  to  existence.  1 hastened  to  my  comfort- 
less home ; but  the  battle  had  fluctuated  so 
far  round  the  walls,  that  I found  myself  per- 
plexed among  the  ruins  of. a portion  of  the 
lower  city,  a crowd  of  obscure  streets  which 
belonged  almost  wholly  to  strangers  and  the 
poorer  population. 

The  faction  of  John  of  Giscala,  composed 
chiefly  of  the  more  profligate  and  beggared 
class,  had  made  the  lower  city  their  strong- 
hold, before  they  became  masters  of  Mount 
Moriah ; and  some  desperate  skirmishes,  of 
which  conflagrations  were  the  perpetual  con- 
sequence, laid  waste  the  principal  part  of  a 
district  built  and  kept  up  with  the  haste  and 
carelessness  of  poverty.  To  find  a guide 
through  this  scene  of  dilapidation  was  hope- 
less, for  every  living  creature,  terrified  by 
the  awful  portents  of  the  sky,  had  now  fled 
from  the  streets.  The  night  was  solid  dark- 
ness. No  expiring  gleam  from  the  burnt 
rampart,  no  fires  of  the  Roman  camps,  no 
lamp  on  the  Jewish  battlements,  broke  the 
pitchy  blackness.  Life  and  light  seemed  to 
have  perished  together. 

To  proceed,  soon  became  impossible  ; and 
I had  no  other  resource  than  to  wait  the  com- 
ing of  day.  But  one  accustomed  as  I was  to 
hardships,  this  inconvenience  was  trivial.  I 
felt  my  way  along  the  walls  to  the  entrance 
of  a house  that  promised  some  protection  from 
the  night,  and,  flinging  myself  into  a corner, 
vainly  tried  to  slumber.  But  the  rising  of  the 
storm,  and  the  rain  pouring  upon  my  lair,  drove 
me  to  sepk  a more  sheltered  spot  within  the 
ruin.  The  destruction  was  so  effectual,  that 


142 


Salat  hiel. 


this  was  difficult  to  discover,  and  I was  hope- 
lessly returning  to  take  my  chance  in  the 
open  air,  when  I discovered  the  glimmer  of  a 
lamp  through  a crevice  in  the  upper  part  of  i 
the  building.  My  first  impulse  was  to  ap- 
proach and  obtain  assistance.  But  the  ab- 
ruptness of  the  ascent  gave  me  time  to  con- 
sider the  hazard  of  breaking  in  upon  such 
groups  as  might  be  gathered  at  that  hour,  in 
a period  when  every  atrocity  under  heaven 
eigned  in  Jerusalem. 

My  patience  was  put  to  but  brief  trial ; for 
in  a few  minutes,  I heard  a low  hymn.  It 
paused,  as  if  followed  by  prayer.  The  hymn  | 
began  again,  in  accents  so  faint,  as  evidently 
to  express  the  fear  of  the  worshippers.  But  | 
the  sound  thrilled  through  my  soul.  I lis- 
tened in  a struggleof  doubt  and  hope.  Could 
I be  deceived]  and,  if  I were,  how  bitter 
must  be  the  discovery ! I sat  down  on  the 
foot  of  the  rude  stair,  to  feed  myself  with  the 
fancied  delight,  before  it  should  be  snatched 
from  me  forever. 

But  my  perturbation  would  have  risen  to 
madness,  had  I stopped  longer.  I climbed  up 
the  tottering  steps;  half-way  I found  my- 
self obstructed  by  a door;  I struck  upon  it, 
and  called  aloud.  After  an  interval  of  mise- 
rable delay,  a still  higher  door  was  opened, 
and  a figure,  disguised  in  a mantle,  trem- 
blingly looked  out,  and  demanded  my  pur- 
pose. I saw,  glancing  over  her,  two  faces, 
that  1 would  have  given  the  world  to  see.  1 1 
called  out  “Miriam!”  Overpowered  with 
emotion,  my  speech  failed  me.  I lived  only  in 
my  eyes.  I saw  Miriam  fling  off  the  mantle 
with  a scream  of  joy,  and  rush  down  the  steps. 

I saw  my  two  daughters  follow  her  with  the 
speed  of  love : the  door  was  thrown  back,  and 
I fell  fainting  into  their  arms. 

Tears,  exclamations,  and  gazings,  were 
long  our  only  language.  My  wife  flung  her 
arms  round  me,  and  hung  over  my  wasted  | 
frame  with  endless  embraces  and  sobs  of  joy. 
My  daughters  fell  at  my  feet,  bathed  my  cold 
hands  with  tneir  tears,  smiled  on  me  in 
speechless  delight,  and  then  wept  again. — 
They  had  thought  me  lost  to  them  forever.  I 
had  thought  them  dead,  or  driven  to  some 
solitude  which  forbade  us  to  meet  again  on 
this  side  of  the  grave.  For  two  years,  two 
drdadful  years,  a lonely  man  on  earth,  a wife- 
less husband,  a childless  father,  tried  by  every 
misery  of  mind  and  body;  here,  here  I found 
my  treasure  once  more.  On  this  spot,  wretch- 
ed and  destitute  as  it  was,  in  the  midst  of 
public  misery  and  personal  woe,  I had  found 
those  whose  loss  would  have  made  the  riches 
of  mankind  beggary  to  me.  My  soul  over-1 
flowed.  Words  were  not  to  tell  the  feverish 
fondness,  the  strong  delight  that  quivered ! 
through  me : I wept  with  woman’s  weakness ; 1 
£ held  my  wife  and  children  at  arm’s  length, 


that  I might  enjoy  the  full  happiness  of  gazing 
on  them  ; then  my  eyes  would  grow  dim,  and 
1 caught  them  to  my  heart,  and  in  silence,  the 
silence  of  unspeakable  emotion,  tried  to  col- 
lect my  thoughts,  and  to  convince  myself  that 
my  joy  was  no  dream. 

The  night  p issed  in  mutual  inquiries.  The 
career  of  my  family  had  been  deeply  diver- 
sified. On  my  capture  in  the  great  battle 
with  Cestius,  in  which  it  was  conceived  that 
I had  fallen,  they  were  on  the  point  of  com- 
ing to  Jerusalem  to  ascertain  their  misfortune. 
The  advance  of  the  Romans  to  Masada  pre- 
cluded this.  They  sailed  for  Alexandria, 
and  were  overtaken  by  a storm. 

“In  that  storm,”  said  Miriam,  with  terror 
painted  on  her  countenance,  “ we  saw  a sight 
that  appalled  the  firmest  heart  among  us, 
and  to  this  hour  recalls  horrid  images.  The 
night  had  fallen  intensely  dark.  Our  vessel, 
laboring  through  the  tempest  during  the  day, 
and  greatly  shattered,  was  expected  to  go  down 
before  morn,  and  I had  come  upon  the  deck 
prepared  to  submit  to  the  general  fate;  when 
[ saw  a flame  upon  the  horizon.  I pointed  it 
out  to  the  mariners;  but  they  were  paralyzed 
by  weariness  and  fear;  and  instead  of  ap- 
proaching what  I conceived  to  be  a beacon, 
they  let  the  vessel  drive  before  the  wind.  I 
watched  the  light;  to  my  astonishment  I saw 
it  advancing  over  the  waves.  It  was  a large 
ship  on  fire,  and  rushing  down  upon  us.  Then 
indeed  there  was  no  insensibility  in  our  mari- 
ners; they  were  like  mad  men  throngh  ex- 
cess of  fear;  they  did  every  thing  but  make 
a resolute  effort  to  escape  the  danger. 

“ The  blazing  ship  came  towards  us  with 
terrific  rapidity.  As  it  approached,  the  figure 
of  a man  was  seen  on  the  deck,  standing  un- 
hurt in  the  midst  of  the  burning.  The  Syrian 
pilot,  hitherto  the  boldest  of  our  crew,  at  this 
sight,  cast  the  helm  from  his  hands  in  despair, 
and  tore  his  beard,  exclaiming,  that  we  were 
undone.  To  our  questions  he  would  give  no 
other  answer  than  pointing  to  the  solitary 
being  who  stood  calmly  in  the  centre  of  con- 
flagration, more  like  a demon  than  a man. 

“ I proposed  that  we  should  make  some 
efforts  to  rescue  this  unfortunate  man.  But 
the  pilot  was  horror-struck  at  the  thought, 
and  then  gave  up  the  tale,  that  it  cost  him 
agonies  even  to  utter.  He  fold  us  that  the 
being  whom  our  frantic  compassion  would  at- 
tempt to  save,  was  an  accursed  thing;  that 
for  some  crime  too  inexpiable  to  allow  of 
his  remaining  among  creatures  capable  of 
hope,  he  was  cast  out  from  men,  stricken  into 
the  nature  of  the  condemned  spirits,  and  sen- 
tenced to  rove  the  ocean  in  fire,  ever  burning, 
and  never  consumed  !” 

I felt  every  word,  as  if  that  fire  were  de- 
vouring my  flesh.  The  sense  of  what  I was, 
and  what  I must  be, was  poison.  My  head  swam; 


Salathiel. 


143 


mortal  pain  overwhelmed  me.  And  this  ab- 
horred thing  I was  ; this  sentenced  and  fear- 1 
ful  wretch  I was,  covered  with  wrath  and 
shame,  the  exile  from  human  nature : and  I j 
heard  my  sentence  pronounced,  and  my  exis- 
tence declared  hideous,  by  the  lips  on  which  ; 
I hung  for  confidence  and  consolation  against 
the  world. 

Flinging  my  mantle  over  my  face  to  hide 
its  writhings,  1 seemed  to  listen ; but  my 
ears  refused  to  hear.  In  my  perturbation,  I 
once  thought  of  boldly  avowing  the  truth, 
and  thus  freeing  myself  from  the  pang  of  per- 
petual concealment.  But  the  offence  and  the 
retribution  were  too  real  and  too  deadly,  to 
be  disclosed,  without  destroying  the  last 
chance  of  happiness  to  those  innocent  suffer- 
ers. I mastered  the  convulsion,  and  again 
bent  my  ear. 

“ Our  story  exhausts  you,”  said  Miriam ; 
“ but  it  is  done.  After  a long  pursuit,  in  which 
the  burning  ship  followed  us,  as  if  with  the 
express  purpose  of  our  ruin ; we  were  snatch- 
ed from  a death  by  fire,  only  to  undergo  the 
chance  of  one  by  the  waves;  for  we  struck 
upon  a rock.  Yet  it  may  have  been  owing! 
even  to  that  chase  that  we  were  saved.  The  l 
ship  had  driven  us  towards  land.  At  sea  we 
must  have  perished  ; but  the  shore  was  found 
to  be  so  near,  that  the  country  people,  guided 
by  the  flame,  saved  us  without  the  loss  of  a 
life.  Once  on  shore,  we  met  with  some  of 
th^fugitives  from  Masada,  who  brought  us 
to  Jerusalem,  the  only  remaining  refuge  for 
our  unhappy  nation.” 

To  prevent  a recurrence  of  this  torturing, 
subject,  I mastered  my  emotion  so  far  as  to 
ask  some  questions  of  their  means  of  support 
during  the  seige.  But  Miriam’s  thoughts 
were  still  busy  with  the  sea.  After  some 
hesitation,  and  as  if  she  dreaded  the  answer, 
she  said  ; “ One  extraordinary  circumstance 
made  me  take  a strong  interest  in  the  fate  of-; 
that  solitary  being  on  board  the  burning  vessel,  j 
It  once  seemed  to  have  the  most  striking  like- 
ness to  you.  I even  cried  out  to  you  under  that 
impression  ; but  fortunate  it  was  for  us  all  that 
my  heedless  cry  was  not  answered  ; for,  when 
it  approached  us,  I could  see  its  countenance 
change  ; it  threw  a sheet  of  flame  across  our 
vessel  that  almost  scorched  us  to  death  ; and 
then,  perhaps  thinking  thatour  destruction  was 
complete,  the  human  fiend  ascended  from  the 
waters  in  a pillar  of  intense  fire.” 

I felt  deep  pain  in  this  romantic  narrative. 

I My  mysterious  sentence  was  the  common 
talk  of  mankind  ! My  frightful  secret,  that 
I had  thought  locked  up  in  my  own  heart, 
was  loose  as  the  air  ! This  was  enough  to 
make  life  bitter.  But,  to  be  identified  in  the 
minds  of  my  family  with  the  object  of  univer-  j 
sal  horror,  was  a chance  which  I determined 
not  to  contemplate.  My  secret  there  was 
still  safe ; and  my  resolution  became  fixed, ! 


never  to  destroy  that  safety  by  any  frantic 
confidence  of  my  own. 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 

W hile,  with  my  head  bent  on  my  knees, 
I hung  in  the  misery  of  self-abhorrence,  I 
heard  the  name  of  Constantius  sorrowfully 
pronounced  beside  me.  The  state  in  which 
he  must  be  left  by  my  long  absence  flashed 
upon  my  mind ; I threw  back  the  mantle, 
and  saw  Salome.  It  was  her  voice  that 
wept ; and  I then  first  observed  the  work  of 
woe  in  her  form  and  features.  She  was  al- 
most a shadow ; her  eye  was  lustreless,  and 
the  hands  that  she  clasped  in  silent  prayer 
were  reduced  to  the  bone.  But  before  I 
could  speak,  Miriam  made  a sign  of  silence 
to  me,  and  led  the  mourner  away ; then  re- 
turning, said,  “I  dreaded  lest  you  might 
make  any  inquiries  before  Salome  for  her 
husband.  Religion  alone  has  kept  her  from 
the  grave.  On  our  arrival  here  we  found 
our  noble  Constantius  worn  out  by  the  fa- 
tigue of  the  time ; but  he  was  our  guardian 
spirit  in  the  dreadful  tumults  of  the  city. 
When  we  were  burned  out  of  one  asylum, 
he  led  us  to  another.  It  is  but  a week  since 
he  placed  us  in  this  melancholy  spot,  but  yet 
the  more  secure  and  unknown.  He  himself 
brought  us  provisions,  supplied  us  with  every 
comfort  that  could  be  obtained  by  his  impov- 
erished means,  and  saved  us  from  want.  But 
now,” — the  tears  gushed  from  her  eyes,  and 
she  could  not  proceed. 

“ Yes — now,”  said  I,  “ he  is  a sight  that 
would  shock  the  eye;  we  must  keep  Salome 
in  ignorance,  as  long  as  we  can.” 

“ The  unhappy  girl  knows  his  fate  but  too 
well.  He  left  us  a few  days  since,  to  obtain 
some  intelligence  of  the  seige.  We  sat  dur- 
ing the  night,  listening  to  the  frightful  sounds 
of  battle.  At  day-break,  unable  any  longer  to 
bear  the  suspense,  or  sit  looking  at  Salome’s 
wretchedness,  I ventured  to  the  Fountain-gate, 
and  there  heard  what  I so  bitterly  anticipated 
— our  brave  Constantius  was  slain!” 

She  wept  aloud ; and  sobs  and  cries  of  ir- 
repressible anguish  answered  her  from  the 
chamber  of  my  unhappy  child. 

The  danger  of  a too  sudden  discovery  pre- 
vented me  from  drying  those  tears;  and  I could 
proceed  only  by  offering  conjectures  on  the 
various  chances  of  battle,  the  possibility  of  his 
being  made  prisoner,  and  the  general  difficulty 
of  ascertaining  the  fates  of  men  in  the  irregu- 
lar combats  of  a populace.  But  Salome  sat  fix- 
ed in  cold  incredulity.  Esther  sorrowfully 
kissed  my  hand  for  the  disposition  to  give  them 
a ray  of  comfort;  Miriam  gazed  on  me  with  a 
| sad  and  searching  look, as  if  she  felt  that  I would 
not  tamper  with  their  distresses,  yet  was  deep- 
ly perplexed  for  the  issue. 

At  last  the  delay  grew  painful  to  myself; 


Salathiel. 


and  taking  Saiume  to  my  arms,  and  pressing 
a kiss  of  parental  love  on  her  pale  cheek,  I 
whispered,  “he  lives.” 

I was  overwhelmed  with  transports  and 
thanksgivings.  Precaution  was  at  an  end. — 
If  battle  were  raging  in  the  streets,  I could 
not  now  have  restrained  the  generous  impa- 
tience of  friendship  and  love.  We  left  the 
tower.  There  was  not  much  to  leave,  besides 
the  walls ; but  such  as  it  was,  the  first  fugitive 
was  welcome  to  the  possession.  Night  was 
still  within  the  building,  which  had  belonged 
to  some  of  the  Roman  officers  of  state,  and 
was  massive  and  of  great  extent.  But  at  the 
threshold,  the  grey  dawn  came  quivering  over 
the  Mount  of  Olives. 

We  struggled  through  the  long  and  wind- 
ing streets,  which  even  in  the  fight  were 
nearly  impassable.  From  the  inhabitants  we 
met  with  no  impediment;  a few  haggard  and 
fierce-looking  men  stared  at  us  from  the  ru- 
ins ; but  we,  wrapped  up  in  rude  mantles,  and 
hurrying  along,  wore  too  much  the  livery  of 
despair,  to  be  disturbed  by  our  fellows  in 
wretchedness. 

With  a trembling  heart  I led  the  way  to 
the  chamber,  where  lay  one,  in  whose  life 
our  general  happiness  was  centred.  Fearful 
of  the  shock  which  our  sudden  appearance 
might  give  his  enfeebled  frame,  and  not  less 
of  the  misery  with  which  he  must  be  seen,  I 
advanced  alone  to  the  bedside.  He  gave  no 
sign  of  recognition,  though  he  was  evidently 
awake  ; and  I was  about  to  close  the  curtains, 
and  keep  at  least  Salome  from  the  hazardous 
sight  of  this  living  ruin,  when  I found  her 
beside  me.  She  took  his  hand,  and  set-down 
on  the  bed  with  her  eyes  fixed  on  his  hollow 
features.  She  spoke  not  a word,  but  sat  cher- 
ishing the  wasted  hand  in  her  own,  and  kiss- 
ing it  with  sad  fondness.  Her  grief  was  too 
sacred  for  our  interference ; and  in  sorrow 
scarcely  less  poignant  than  her  own,  I led 
apart  Miriam  and  Esther,  who,  like  me,  be- 
lieved lhat  the  parting  day  was  come. 

Such  rude  help  as  could  be  found  in  medi- 
cine,— at  a time  when  our  men  of  science  had 
fled  the  city,  and  a few  herbs  were  the  only 
resource, — had  not  been  neglected  even  in 
my  distraction.  But  life  seemed  retiring  hour 
by  hour;  and  if  I dared  to  contemplate  the  death 
of  this  heroic  and  beloved  being,  it  was  al- 
most with  a wish  that  it  had  happened  before 
the  arrival  of  those  to  whom  it  must  be  a re- 
newal of  agony. 

But  the  minor  cares,  which  make  so  hum- 
ble, yet  so  necessary  a page  in  the  history  of 
life,  were  now  to  occupy  me.  Food  must  be 
provided  for  the  increased  number  of  my  in- 
mates; and  where  was  that  to  be  found  in  the 
circle  of  a beleaguered  city  1 Money  was 
useless,  even  if  I possessed  it : the  friends  who 
would  once  have  shared  their  last  meal  with 


me,  were  exiled  or  slain ; and  it  was  in  the 
midst  of  a fierce  populace,  themselves  dying 
of  hunger,  that  I was  to  glean  the  daily  sub- 
sistence of  my  wife  and  children.  The  natu- 
ral pride  of  the  chieftain  revolted  at  the  idea 
of  supplicating  for  food;  but  this  was  one  of 
the  questions  lhat  show  the  absurdity  of  pride ; 
and  I must  beg,  if  I would  not  see  them  die. 
The  dwelling  had  belonged  to  one  of  the  no- 
ble families  extinguished  or  driven  out  in  the 
first  commotions  of  the  war.  The  factions 
which  perpetually  tore  each  other,  and  fought 
from  house  to  house,  bad  stripped  its  lofty 
halls  of  every  thing  that  could  be  plundered 
in  the  hurry  of  civil  feud  ; and  when  I took 
refuge  under  its  roof,  it  looked  the  very  pal- 
ace of  desolation.  But  it  was  a shelter;  un- 
disturbed by  the  riots  of  the  crowd,  too  bare 
to  invite  the  robber;  and  even  its  vast  and 
naked  chambers,  its  gloomy  passages,  and 
frowning  casements,  were  congenial  to  the 
mood  of  my  mind.  With  Constantius  insen- 
sible and  dying  before  me,  and  with  my  own 
spirit  darkened  by  an  eternal  cloud,  I loved 
the  loneliness  and  darkness.  When  the  echo 
of  the  winds  came  round  me,  as  I sat  during 
my  miserable  midnights  watching  the  coun- 
tenance of  my  son,  and  moistening  his  fever- 
ish lip  with  water,  that  even  then  was  becom- 
ing a commodity  of  rare  price  in  Jerusalem; 
1 communed  with  memories  that  I would  not 
have  exchanged  for  the  brightest  enjoyments 
of  life.  I welcomed  the  sad  music,  in  wMch 
the  beloved  voices  revisited  my  soul ; what 
was  earth  now  to  me,  but  a tomb ! pomp,  nay, 
comfort  would  have  been  a mockery.  I clung 
to  the  solitude  and  obscurity  that  gave  me  the 
picture  of  the  grave. 

But  the  presence  of  my  family  made  me 
feel  the  wretchedness  of  my  abode.  And 
when  I cast  my  eyes  round  the  squallid  and 
chilling  halls,  and  saw  wandering  through 
them  those  gentle  and  delicate  forms,  and 
saw  them  trying  to  disguise  by  smiles  and 
cheering  words  the  depression  that  the  whole 
scene  must  inspire,  I felt  a pang  that  might 
defy  a firmer  philosophy  than  mine. 

“Here,”  said  I to  Miriam,  as  T hastened  to 
the  door,  “I  leave  you  mistress  of  a palace. 
The  Asmonean  blood  once  flourished  within 
these  walls;  and  why  not  we?  I have  seen 
the  nobles  of  the  land  crowded  into  these 
chambers;  and  every  spot  of  them  echoing 
with  festivity.  They  are  not  so  full  now  ; but 
we  must  make  the  most  of  what  we  have. — 
Those  hangings,  that  I remember  the  pride 
of  the  Sidonian  who  sold  them,  and  the  won- 
der of  Jerusalem,  are  left  to  us  still ; if  they 
are  in  fragments,  they  will  but  show  our 
handy-work  the  more.  We  must  make  our 
own  music  ; and,  in  default  of  menials,  serve 
with  our  own  hands.  The  pile  in  that  cor- 
ner was  once  a throne  sent  by  a Persian  king 


Salathiel. 


to  the  descendant  of  the  Maccabees;  it  will 
serve  at  least  for  firing:  the  walls  are  thick; 
the  roof  may  hold  out  a few  storms  more ; the 
casements,  if  they  keep  out  nothing  else,  keep 
out  the  day-light,  an  unwelcome  guest,  which 
would  do  any  thing  but  reconcile  us  to  the 
state  of  the  mansion : and  now  farewell  for  a 
few  hours.” 

Miriam  caught  my  arm,  and  said  in  that 
sweet  tone,  which  always  sank  into  my  heart; 
“ Salathiel,  you  must  not  leave  us  in  this 
temper.  I would  rather  hear  your  open  com- 
plaints of  fortune,  than  this  affectation  of 
scorn  for  our  calamities.  They  are  many,  and 
painful,  I allow;  though  I will  not — dare  not 
repine.  They  may  even  be  such  as  are  be- 
yond human  cure.  But  who  shall  say,  that 
he  has  deserved  better;  or  if  he  has,  that 
suffering  may  not  be  the  determined  means 
of  purifying  and  exalting  his  nature  1 Is  gold 
the  only  thing  that  is  to  be  tried  in  fire  1” 

She  waited  my  answer  with  a look  of  de- 
jected love. 

“ Miriam,  I need  not  say  that  T respect  and 
honor  your  feelings.  But  no  resignation  can 
combat  the  substantial  evils  of  life.  Will  the 
finest  sentiments  that  ever  came  from  human 
lips  make  this  darkness  light,  turn  this  bitter 
wind  into  warmth,  or  make  these  hideous 
chambers  but  the  dungeon  1” 

“ Salathiel,  I dread  this  language  ;”  was  the 
answer,  with  more  than  usual  solemnity.  “ It 
is,  must  I say  it,  even  ungrateful  and  unwise: 
shall  the  creatures  of  the  power  by  whom  we 
are  placed  in  life,  either  defy  his  wrath,  or 
disregard  his  mercy  1 Might  we  not  be  more 
severely  tasked  than  we  are!  Are  there  not 
thousands  at  this  hour  in  the  world,  who, 
with  at  least  equal  claims  to  the  divine  be- 
nevolence, (I  tremble  when  I use  the  pre- 
sumptuous phrase,)  are  undergoing  calami- 
ties to  which  ours  are  happiness  1 Look  from 
this  very  threshold  : are  there  not  thousands 
within  the  walls  of  Jerusalem  groaning  in 
the  pangs  of  unhealed  wounds,  mad,  starving, 
stripped  of  every  succor  of  man,  dying  in  ho- 
vels, the  last  survivors  of  their  wretched  race  ; 
and  yet  we,  still  enjoying  health,  with  a roof 
over  our  heads,  with  our  children  round  us 
safe,  when  the  plague  of  the  first-born  has 
fallen  upon  almost  every  house  in  Judea,  can 
complain  ! Be  comforted,  my  love;  I see  but 
one  actual  calamity  among  us;  and,  if  Con- 
stantius  should  survive,  even  that  one  would 
be  at  an  end.” 

I tried  to  escape  under  cover  of  ridicule. 

“ So,  let  fancy  have  its  way ; and  never  had 
it  a more  boundless  field.  Let  us  dream  this 
ruin  into  our  palace,  fill  its  walls  with  ima- 
ginary opulence,  and  be  happy  in  spite  of 
chance  or  change.  Here  will  I sit,”  said 
I,  throwing  myself  on  the  remnant  of  an  em- 
broidered couch  ; “ enjoy  the  delights  of  soci- 


ety in  solitude,  and  feel  every  comfort  of  life 
in  cold,  squalidness  and  privation.”  Miriam 
turned  away  with  a vexed  look  ; but  soon,  re- 
covering her  composure,  came  back  to  conquer 
with  her  irresistible  snnle. 

“ I can  forgive  your  unhappiness:  the  spirit 
of  man  is  not  made  to  endure  with  the  pa- 
tience of  woman.  But,  thoughts  like  yours 
are  nurtured  into  sadness  by  inactivity:  you 
must  leave  us  for  a while,  and  see  how  far 
our  skill  may  not  improve  even  this  dwelling. 
Go  into  the  streets,  and  bring  us  intelligence 
ot  what  the  Romans  are  doing.  Try  the  ef- 
fect of  sunshine  and  air ; and  then  return,  and 
allow  the  wonders  that  can  be  done  even  by 
helpless  woman.” 

I obeyed  the  orders  of  my  gentle  despot, 
and  hurried  through  the  echoing  halls  of  this 
palace  of  the  winds.  As  I approached  the 
great  avenues  leading  from  the  gates  to  the 
temple,  unusual  sounds  struck  my  ears. — 
Hitherto,  nothing  in  the  sadness  of  the  be- 
sieged city  was  sadder  than  its  silence. — 
Death  was  lord  of  Jerusalem ; and  the  num- 
berless wavs  in  which  life  was  extinguished, 
had  left  but  a remnant  of  its  once  proud  and 
flourishing  population. 

But  now  shouts,  and  still  more  the  deep  and 
perpetual  murmurs  that  bespeak  the  move- 
ments and  gatherings  of  a crowded  city,  as- 
tonished me.  My  first  conception  was,  that 
the  enemy  had  advanced  in  force ; and  1 was 
turning  towards  the  battlements  to  witness  or 
repel  the  general  fate,  when  I was  involved 
in  the  multitude  whose  voices  had  perplexed 
me. 

It  was  the  season  of  the  passover ; the  Ro- 
man barrier  had  hitherto  kept  back  the  tribes : 
but  the  victory  that  left  it  in  embers,  opened 
the  gates  : and  we  once  more  saw  the  sons 
of  Judea  filling  the  courts  of  the  city  of  ci- 
ties. 

Nothing  could  be  more  unrestrained  than 
the  public  rejoicing.  The  bold  myriads  that 
poured  in  hour  by  hour,  many  of  them  long 
acquainted  with  Roman  battle,  and  distin- 
guished for  the  successful  defence  of  their 
strong  holds;  many  of  them  even  bearing 
arms  taken  from  the  enemy,  or  display- 
ing honorable  scars,  seemed  to  have  come, 
sent  by  heaven.  The  enemy  evidently  dis- 
heartened by  their  late  losses,  and  the  de- 
struction of  the  rampart  which  had  cost  them 
so  much  labor,  were  collected  in  their  camps; 
and  access  was  free  from  every  quarter.  The 
rumors  of  our  triumph  had  spread  with  sin- 
gular rapidity  through  the  land  ; and  even 
the  fearful  phenomenon  that  wrote  our  undo- 
! ing  in  the  skies,  stimulated  the  national  hope, 
j No  son  of  Abraham  could  believe,  without 
j the  strongest  repugnance,  that  heaven  had 
| interposed,  and  yet.  interposed  against  the 
1 chosen  peoole 


Salathiel. 


A living  torrent  was  swelling  into  tlie 
gates;  and  the  great  avenues  and  public 
places  were  quickly'  impassable  with  the  mul- 
titude. Jerusalem  never  before  contained 
such  a mass  of  population.  Wherever  the 
eye  turned  were  tents,  fires,  and  feasting; 
still,  the  multitude  wore  an  aspect  not  such 
as  in  former  days.  The  war  had  made  its 
impression  on  the  inmost  spirit  of  our  coun- 
try. The  shepherds  and  tillers  of  the  ground 
had  been  forced  into  the  habits  of  soldiership ; 
and  I saw  before  me,  for  the  gentle  and  joy- 
ous inhabitants  of  the  field  and  garden,  bands 
of  warriors,  made  fierce  by  the  sullen  neces- 
sities of  the  time. 

The  ruin  in  which  they  found  Jerusalem, 
increased  their  gloom.  Groups  were  seen 
every  where  climbing  among  the  fallen  build- 
ings to  find  out  the  dwelling  of  some  chief  of 
their  tribe,  and  venting  furious  indignation  on 
the  hands  that  had  overthrown  it  The  work 
of  war  upon  the  famous  defences  of  the  city 
was  a profanation  in  their  eyes.  Crowds 
rushed  through  the  plain  to  trace  the  spot 
where  their  kindred  fell,  and  gather  their 
bones  to  the  tardy  sepulchre.  Others  were 
exulting  over  the  wrecks  of  the  Roman,  and 
burning  them  in  heaps,  that,  they  might  not 
mix  with  the  honored  dead.  But  it  was  the 
dilapidation  of  the  temple  that  struck  them 
with  the  deepest  wrath.  The  whole  nervous 
sensibility  and  native  reverence  of  the  Jew' 
were  awakened  by  the  sight  of  the  humiliated 
sanctuary.  They  knelt  and  kissed  the  pave- 
ments stained  with  the  marks  of  civil  feud. 
They  sent  forth  deep  lamentations  for  the  dis- 
mantled beauty  of  gate  and  altar.  They 
wrapped  their  mantles  round  their  heads,  and, 
covering  themselves  with  dust  and  ashes, 
chanted  hymns  of  funeral  sorrow  over  the  ru- 
ins. Hundreds  lay  embracing  pillar  and 
threshold,  as  they  would  the  corpse  of  a pa- 
rent or  a child  ; or,  starting  from  the  ground, 
gathered  on  the  heights  nearest  to  the  enemy 
and  poured  out  curses  upon  the  abomination 
of  desolation — the  idolatrous  banner  that 
flaunted  over  the  Roman  camps,  and  by  its 
mere  presence  insulted  and  polluted  the  tem- 
ple of  their  fathers. 

In  the  midst  of  this  sorrow,  and  never  was 
there  more  real  sorrow,  was  the  strange  con- 
trast of  a violent  spirit  of  festivity.  The 
passover,  the  grand  celebration  of  our  law, 
was  till  now  marked  by  a grave  homage. — 
Even  its  recollections  of  triumphant  deliver- 
ance and  illustrious  promise  were  but  slightly 
suffered  to  mitigate  the  general  awe.  But 
the  character  of  the  Jew  had  undergone  a 
signal  change.  Desperate  valor  and  haughty 
contempt  of  all  power  but  that  of  arms,  were 
the  impulse  bf  the  time.  The  habits  of  the 
camp  were  transferred  through  every  part  of 
life  ; and  the  reckless  joy  of  the  soldier  when  1 


the  battle  is  done,  the  eagerness  for  immedi- 
ate indulgence,  and  the  rude  and  unhallowed 
resources  to  while  away  the  heavy  hour  of 
idleness,  were  powerfully  and  repulsively 
prominent  in  the  final  corning  up  of  the  na- 
tion. 

As  I struggled  through  the  avenues  in 
search  of  the  remnant  of  my  tribe,  my  ears 
were  perpetually  startled  by  sounds  of  riot ; 
I saw,  beside  the  spot  where  relations  were 
weeping  over  their  dead,  crowds  drinking, 
dancing,  and  clamoring.  Songs  of  wild  ex- 
ultation over  the  enemy  were  mingled  with 
laments  for  their  country;  wine  flowed  ; and 
the  board,  loaded  with  careless  profusion,  was 
surrounded  by  revelers,  with  whom  the  ca- 
rouse was  often  succeeded  by  the  quarrel. 

The  Pharisee  and  Scribe,  the  pests  of  so- 
ciety, were  as  busy  as  ever,  bustling  through 
the  concourse  with  supercilious  dignity,  can- 
vassing for  hearers  in  the  market-places  as  of 
old,  offering  their  wordy  devotions  where  they 
might  best  be  seen,  and  quarreling,  with  the 
native  bitterness  of  religious  faction.  Blind 
guides  of  the  blind  ; vipers  and  hypocrites;  I 
think  that  I see  them  still  with  their  turbans 
pulled  down  upon  their  scowling  brows;  their 
mantles  gathered  round  them,  that  they  might 
not  be  degraded  by  a profane  touch  ; and  eve- 
ry feature  of  their  acrid  and  worldly  physi- 
ognomies wrinkled  with  pride  put  to  the  tor- 
ture by  the  assumption  of  humility. 

Minstrels,  far  unlike  those  who  once  led 
the  way,  with  sacred  song  to  the  gates  of  the 
holy  city,  flocked  round  the  tents  ; and  com- 
panies of  Greek  and  Syrian  mimes,  dancers, 
and  flute-players,  tire  natural  and  fatal  growth 
of  a period  of  military  relaxation,  were  erect- 
ing their  pavilions,  as  in  the  festivals  of  their 
own  profligate  cities. 

Deepening  the  shadows  of  this  fearful  pro- 
fanation, stood  forth  the  progeny  of  terror; 
the  exorcist,  the  soothsayer,  the  magician  gir- 
dled with  live  serpents,  the  pretended  pro- 
phet, naked  and  pouring  out  furious  rhapso- 
dies; impostors  of  every  color  and  trade  ; yet, 
some  of  those  abhorred  arid  frightful  beings 
the  dupes  of  their  own  imposture;  some  ut- 
terly frenzied  ; and  some  declaring  and  doing 
wonders,  that  showed  a power  of  evil  never 
learned  from  man. 

In  depression  of  heart  I gave  up  the  effort 
to  urge  my  way  through  scenes,  that,  firm  as 
I was,  terrified  me;  and  turned  towards  my 
home,  through  the  steep  path  that  passed 
along  the  buter  court  of  the  temple.  There 
all  was  the  mournful  silence  suited  to  the 
sanctuary,  that  was  to  see  its  altars  kindled 
no  more.  But  the  ruins  were  crowded  with 
kneeling  and  woe-besrone  worshipers,  that, 
from  morning  till  night,  clung  to  the  sacred 
1 soil,  and  wept  for  the  departing  majesty  of 


Salathiel. 


Judah.  I knelt  with  them,  and  mingled  my 
tears  with  theirs. 

Prayer  calmed  my  spirit ; and  before  1 left 
the  height,  I stopped  to  look  again  upon  the  j 
wondrous  expanse  below.  The  clear  atmos- 
phere of  the  East  singularly  diminishes  dis-j 
tance,  and  I seemed  to  stand  close  to  the  Ro-  j 
man  camps.  T.V  valley  at  my  feet  was  liv-l 
ing  with  the  new  population  of  Jerusalem 
clustering  thick  as  bees,  and  sending  up  thej 
perpetual  hum  of  their  mighty  hive.  The 
sight  was  superb;  and  I involuntarily  exulted 
in  the  strength  that  my  country  was  still  able 
to  display  in  the  face  of  her  enemies. 

“ Here  were  the  elements  of  mutual  havoc ; 
but,  might  they  not  be  the  elements  of  pre- 
servation 1”  The  thought  occured,  that  now 
was  the  time  to  make  an  effort  for  peace. — 
“ We  had,  by  the  repulse  of  the  legionaries,' 
shovvn  the  price  which  they  must  pay  for 
conquest.  Even  since  that  repulse,  a new 
force  had  started  forward,  armed  with  an  en- j 
thusiasm  that  would  perish  only  with  the  last 
man,  and  tenfold  increasing  the  difficulties  of 
the  conquest.” 

I turned  again  to  the  ruins,  where  I joined 
myself  to  some  venerable  and  influential  men,  i 
who  alike  shuddered  at  the  excesses  of  the 
crowd  below,  and  the 'catastrophe  that  pro- 
longed war  must  bring.  My  advice  produced 
an  impression.  The  remnant  of  the  Sanhe- 
drim were  speedily  collected  ; and  my  propo- 
sal was  adopted,  that  a deputation  should  im- 
mediately be  sent  to  Titus,  to  ascertain  how ! 
far  he  was  disposed  to  an  armistice.  The 
regular  pacification  might  then  follow  with  a 
more  solemn  ceremonial. 

From  the  top  of  Mount  Moriah,  we  anx- 
iously watched  the  passage  of  our  envoys 
through  the  multitude  that  wandered  over  the 
space  from  Jerusalem  to  the  foOt  of  the  ene- 
my’s position.  We  saw  them  pass  unmolest- 
ed, and  enter  the  Roman  lines ; and  from  the 
group  of  officers  of  rank  who  came  forward 
to  meet  them,  we  gladly  conjectured  that 
their  reception  was  favorable.  Within  an 
hour  we  saw  them  moving  down  the  side  of 
the  hill  on  their  return;  and  at  some  distance 
behind,  a cluster  of  horsemen  slowly  advanc- 
ing. 

The  deputation  had  executed  its  task  with 
success.  Tt  was  received  by  Titus  with  Ital- 
ian urbanity.  To  its  representations  of  the 
power  subsisting  in  Judea  to  sustain  the  war 
he  fully  assented;  and,  giving  high  praise  to 
the  fortitude  of  the  people,  only  lamented  the 
necessary  havoc  of  war..  To  give  the  strong- 
er proof  of  his  wish  for  peace,  his  answer 
i was  to  be  conveyed  formally  by  a mission 
of  his  chief  counsellors  and  officers  to  the  San- 
hedrim. 

The  tidings  were  soon  propagated  among 
the  people , and  proud  of  their  strength,  and 


irritated  against  the  invader  as  they  were,  the 
prospect  of  relief  from  their  innumerable  pri- 
vations was  welcomed  with  undisguised  joy. 
The  hope  was  as  cheering  to  the  two  promi- 
nent leaders  of  the  factions,  as  to  any  man 
among  us.  John  of  Giscala  had  been  stimulated 
into  daring  by  circumstances  alone  ; nature  ne- 
ver intended  him  for  a warrior.  Wily,  grasp- 
ing and  selfish;  cruel  without  boldness,  and 
keen  without  intellectual  vigor;  his  only  pur- 
pose was  to  accumulate  money,  and  to  enjoy 
power.  The  loftier  objects  of  public  life  were 
beyond  his  narrow  capacity.  He  had  been 
rapidly  losing  even  his  own  meaner  objects; 
his  followers  were  deserting  him  ; and  a con- 
tinuance of  the  war  involved  equally  the 
personal  peril  which  he  feared,  and  the  fall 
of  that  tottering  authority,  whose  loss  would 
leave  him  to  insulted  justice. 

Simon,  the  son  of  Gioras,  was  altogether 
of  a higher  class  of  mankind.  He  was  by 
nature  a soldier;  and  might  have,  in  other 
times,  risen  to  a place  among  the  celebrated 
names  of  war.  But  the  fierceness  of  the  pe- 
riod inflamed  his  bold  spirit  into  savage  atro- 
city. In  the  tumults  of  the  city  he  had  dis- 
tinguished himself  by  that  unhesitating  hardi- 
hood, which  values  neither  his  own  life  nor 
that  of  others;  and  his  boldness  threw  the 
hollow  and  artificial  character  of  his  rival 
deeply  into  the  shade.  But  he  found  a differ- 
ent adversary  in  the  Romans.  His  brute 
bravery  was  met  by  intelligent  valor;  his 
rashness  was  punished  by  the  discipline  of  the 
legions;  and,  weary  of  conflicts  in  which  he 
was  sure  to  be  defeated,  he  had  long  left  the 
field  to  the  irregular  sallies  of  the  tribes;  and 
contented  himself  with  prowess  in  city  feud, 
and  the  preservation  of  his  authority  against 
the  dagger. 

Peace  with  Rome  would  have  relieved  both 
John  and  Simon  from  the  danger  which 
threatened  to  overwhelm  them  alike:  to  the 
citizens  it  would  have  given  an  instant  change 
from  the  terrors  of  assault  to  tranquility:  to 
the  nation,  the  hope  of  an  existence  made 
splendidly  secure  and  honorable,  by  its  having 
been  won  from  the  sovereign  of  the  world. 

The  movement  of  the  Roman  mission 
through  the  plain  was  marked  by  loud  shouts. 
As  it  approached  the  gates,  our  little  council 
descended  from  the  Temple-porch  to  meet 
it,  where  one  of  the  open  places  in  the  cen- 
tre of  the  city  was  appointed  for  the  confer- 
ence. The  applauding  roar  of  the  people  fol- 
lowed the  troop  through  the  streets;  and  when 
the  tribunes  and  senators  entered  the  square, 
and  gave  us  the  right  hand  of  amity,  the  uni- 
versal acclamation  shook  the  air.  A gleam 
of  joy  revisited  my  heart ; and  I was  on  the 
point  of  ascending  an  elevation  in  the  centre, 
to  announce  the  terms  of  this  fortunate  arm- 


Salathiet. 


istice ; — to  my  astonishment  I saw  the  spot 
pre-occupied. 

Whence  came  the  intruder  no  one  could 
tell.  But  there  he  stood,  a figure  that  fixed 
the  universal  eye.  He  was  of  lofty  stature, 
brown  as  an  Indian,  and  thin  as  one  worn  to 
the  last  extremity  by  sorrow  or  famine.  Con- 
jecture was  busy.  He  seemed,  alternately, 
the  fugitive  from  a dungeon — one  of  the  half- 
savage recluses  that  sometimes  came  from 
their  dens  in  the  wilderness,  to  exhibit  among 
us  the  last  humiliation  of  mind  and  body — a 
dealer  in  forbidden  arts,  attempting  to  impose 
on  the  rude  credulity  of  the  populace — and  a 
prophet  armed  with  the  fearful  knowledge  of 
our  approaching  fall.  But  to  me  there  was 
an  expression  in  his  countenance  that  partook 
of  all ; yet  I gazed  with  an  indefinable  feeling 
that  there  was  a something  different  from  all 
in  the  glaring  eye,  the  fixed  and  livid  scorn  of 
the  lip,  and  the  stern  and  grand  outline  of 
features,  that  appeared  alike  overflowing  with 
malignity  and  majesty. 

No  man  thought  of  interrupting  him.  A 
powerful  interest  hushed  every  voice  of  the 
multitude;  and  the  only  impulse  was  eager- 
ness to  hear  the  lofty  wisdom,  or  the  fatal  ti- 
dings, that  must  be  deposited  with  such  a be- 
ing. He  himself  seemed  overwhelmed  with 
the  magnitude  of  the  thoughts  that  he  was 
commissioned  to  disclose.  He  stood  for  a 
while  with  the  look  of  one  oppressed  by  a 
fearful  dream ; his  bosom  heaving,  his  teeth 
gnashing,  every  muscle  of  his  meagre  frame 
swelling  and  quivering.  He  strongly  clasped 
his  bony  arms  across  his  breast,  as  if  to  re- 
press the  agitation  that  impeded  his  words; 
then,  stamping  on  the  ground,  in  wrath  at  the 
faculties  which  thus  sank  under  him  at  the 
important  moment,  the  tempest  of  his  soul 
broke  forth. 

“Judah  ! thou  wert  as  a lion — thou  wert  as 
the  king  of  the  forest  when  he  went  up  to  the 
mountains  to  slay,  and  from  the  mountains 
came  down  to  devour.  Thou  wert  as  the 
garden  of  Eden,  every  precious  stone  was 
thy  covering ; the  sardine,  the  topaz,  and  the 
beryl,  were  thy  pavements;  thy  fountains 
were  of  silver,  and  thy  daughters  that  walked 
in  thy  groves  were  as  the  cherubim  and  the 
seraphim. 

“Judah!  thy  temple  was  glorious  as  the 
eun-risincr,  and  thy  priests  were  the  wise  of 
the  earth.  Kings  came  against  thee,  and 
their  bones  were  an  offering ; the  fowls  of  the 
air  devoured  them ; the  foxes  brought  their 
yountr,  and  feasted  them  upon  the  mighty. 

“Judah!  thou  wert  as  a fire  in  the  midst 
of  the  nations — a fire  upon  an  altar ; who  shall 
quench  thee  1 — A sword  over  the  neck  of  the 
heathen  ; who  shall  say  unto  thee,  smite  no 
more?  Thou  wert  as  the  thunder  and  the 
lightning:  thou  earnest  from  thy  place,  and 


| the  earth  was  dark : the  heaven  was  thine, 
the  earth  was  at  thy  feet.  Thou  didst  thun- 
der, and  the  nations  shook  ; and  the  fire  of 
thy  indignation  consumed  them.” 

The  voice  in  which  this  extraordinary  be- 
ing uttered  those  words  was  like  the  thunder. 
The  multitude  listened  with  breathless  awe. 
The  appeal  in  the  languag'  of  their  own  pro- 
phets was  to  them  a renewal  of  the  times  of 
inspiration ; and  they  awaited  with  out- 
stretched and  quivering  countenances  the  sen- 
tence, that  their  passions  interrupted  into  the 
will  of  heaven. 

The  figure  lifted  up  his  glance,  that  had 
' hitherto  been  fixed  on  the  ground ; and, 
whether  it  was  the  work  of  fancy  or  reality,  I 
thought  that  the  glance  threw  an  actual  beam 
of  fire  across  the  upturned  visages  of  the 
myiiads  that  filled  every  spot  on  which  afoot 
could  rest;  roof,  wall,  and  ground. 

Bowing  his  head,  and  raising  his  hands  in 
the  most  solemn  adoration  towards  the  tem- 
ple, he  pursued,  in  a voice  scarcely  above  a 
whisper,  yet  indescribably  impressive — 

“ Sons  of  the  faithful  Abraham,  of  Isaac, 
and  of  Jacob ; people  chosen  of  God,  elect 
and  holy!  Will  you  suffer  that  house  of  ho- 
liness to  be  the  scoff  of  the  idolater?  Will 
you  see  the  polluted  sacrifice  laid  upon  its  al- 
tars? Will  you  be  slaves  and  victims  in  the 
presence  of  the  house  of  David?” 

A rising  outcry  of  the  multitude  showed 
how  deeply  they  felt  his  words.  A fierce 
smile  lightened  across  his  features  at  the 
sound.  He  erected  his  colossal  form;  and 
cried  out,  like  the  roar  of  the  whirlwind, 
“ Then,  men  of  Judah,  be  strong,  and  follow 
the  hand  that  led  you  through  the  sea  and 
through  the  desert.  Is  that  hand  shortened, 
that  it  cannot  save?  Brpak  off  this  accursed 
league  with  the  sons  of  Belial.  Fly  every 
man  to  arms,  for  the  glory  of  the  mighty  peo- 
ple. Will  the  Most  High  desert  his  people? 
Go;  and  let  the  sword  that  smote  the  Cana- 
anite  srnite  the  Roman.” 

He  was  answered  with  furious  exultation. 
Swords  and  poniards  were  brandished  in  the 
air.  The  safety  of  the  Roman  officers  became 
endangered ; and  T,  with  some  of  the  elders, 
dreading  a result  which  must  throw  fatal  ob- 
stacles in  the  way  of  pacification,  attempted 
to  control  the  popular  violence  by  reason  and  ' 
entreaty.  But  the  spirit  of  the  Romans, 
haughty  with  conquest,  and  long  contempt  of 
rabble  prowess,  disdained  to  take  precautions 
with  a rnob:  and  they  awaited  with  palpable 
contempt  in  their  faces  the  subsiding  of  this 
city  effervescence.  But  this  silent  scorn, 
which  probably  stung  the  deeper  for  its  si- 
lence, was  retorted  to  by  clamors  of  unequi- 
vocal rage  ; the  mysterious  disturber  saw  the 
storm  coming;  and  flinging  a furious  gesture 
towards  the  Roman  camps,  which  lay  glitter- 


Salathiel. 


ing  in  the  sunshine  along  the  hills,  he  rushed 
into  the  loftiest  language  of  malediction. 

“Take  up  a lament  for  the  Roman,”  he 
shouted.  “He  comes  like  a leviathan;  he 
troubleth  the  waters  with  his  presence  ; and 
the  rivers  behold  him,  and  are  afraid. 

“ Thus  saith  the  king,  he  who  holdeth  Is- 
rael in  the  hollow  of  his  hand : I will  spread 
rhy  net  over  thee,  and  my  people  shall  drag 
thee  upon  the  shore;  I will  leave  thee  to  rot 
upon  the  land ; I will  fill  the  beasts  of  the  earth 
with  thee,  until  they  shall  come  and  find  thee 
dry  bones  and  dust,  even  thy  glory  turned  into 
a taint  and  a scorn. 

“ Lift  up  a cry  over  Rome,  and  say: — Thou 
art  the  leopard ; thy  jaws  are  red  with  blood, 
and  thv  claws  are  heavy  because  of  the  mul- 
titude of  the  slain ; thy  spots  are  glorious,  and 
thy  feet  are  like  wings  for  swiftness.  But  thy 
time  is  at  hand.  My  arrow  shall  smite  through 
thee  : my  steel  shall  go  through  thee : I will 
lay  thy  flesh  upon  the  hills,  thy  blood  shall  be 
red  in  the  rivers,  the  pits  shall  be  full  of 
thee. 

“ For,  thus  ^aith  the  king,  I have  not  for- 
saken my  children.  For  my  pleasure,  I have 
given  them  over  for  a little  wnile  to  the  hands 
of  the  oppressor ; but  they  have  loved  me — 
they  have  come  before  me,  and  offered  up 
sacrifices;  and  shall  I desert  the  land  of  the 
chosen,  the  sons  of  the  glorious,  my  people 
Israel !”  A universal  cry  of  sorrow,  wrath, 
and  triumph,  followed  this  allusion  to  the  na- 
tional sufferings. 

“ Ho  !”  exclaimed  the  figure.  “ Men  of 
Israel,  hear  the  words  of  wisdom.  The  bur- 
den of  Rome.  By  the  swords  of  the  mighty 
will  I cause  her  multitude  to  fall ; the  terrible 
and  the  strong  shall  be  on  thee,  city  of  the 
idolater ; they  shall  hew  off  thy  cuirasses,  as 
the  hewer  of  wood  ; and  of  thy  shields,  they 
shall  make  vessels  of  water.  There  shall  be 
fire  in  thy  palaces,  and  the  sword.  Thy  sons 
and  thy  daughters  shall  they  consume  ; and 
thy  precious  things  shall  be  a spoil,  when  the 
king  shall  give  the  sign  from  the  sanctuary.” 
He  paused,  and  lifting  up  his  fleshless  arm, 
stood  like  a giant  bronze  pointing  to  the  tem- 
ple. 

To  the  utter  astonishment  of  all,  a vapor 
was  seen  to  ascend  from  the  summit  of  Mount 
Moriah,  wreathing  and  white  like  the  smoke 
that  used  to  mark  the  daily  sacrifice.  Our 
first  conception  was,  that  this  great  inter- 
rupted rite  was  resumed;  and  the  shout  of  joy 
was  on  our  lips.  But  the  vapor  had  scarcely 
parted  from  the  crown  of  the  hill,  when  it 
blackened,  and  began  to  whirl  with  extraor- 
dinary rapidity;  it  thenceforth  less  ascended 
than  shot  up,  perpetually  darkening  and  dis- 
tending. The  horizon  grew  dim,  the  cloudy 
canopy  above  continued  to  spread  and  revolve ; 


lightning  began  to  quiver  through;  and  we 
heard  at  intervals,  long  low  peals  of  thunder. 
But  no  rain  fell,  and  the  wind  was  lifeless. — 
Nothing  could  be-  more  complete  than  the 
calm  ; not  a hair  of  our  heads  was  moved  ; yet 
the  heart  of  the  countless  multitude  was  pen- 
etrated with  the  dread  of  some  impending 
catastrophe,  that  restrained  every  voice;  and 
the  silence  itself  was  awful. 

In  the  climate  of  Judea  we  had  been  ac- 
customed to  the  rapid  rise  and  violent  devas- 
tations of  tempests.  But  the  rising  of  this 
storm,  so  closely  connected  with  the  appear- 
ance of  the  strange  summoner,  that  it  almost 
followed  his  command,  invested  a phenome- 
non, at  all  times  fearful,  with  a character  that 
might  have  struck  firmer  minds  than  those  of 
the  enthusiasts  round  him.  To  heighten  the 
wonder,  the  progress  of  the  storm  was  still 
faithful  to  the  command,  wherever  this  man 
of  mystery  waved  his  arm,  there  rushed  a 
sheet  of  cloud.  The  bluest  tract  of  heaven 
was  black  as  night  the  moment  he  turned  his 
ominous  presence  towards  it,  until  there  was 
no  more  sky  to  be  obliterated,  and,  but  for  the 
fiery  streaks  that  tore  through,  we  should 
have  stood  under  a canopy  of  solid  gloom. 

At  length  the  whirlwind  that  we  had  seen 
driving  and  rolling  the  clouds,  like  billows, 
burst  upon  us;  roaring  as  it  came:  scattering 
fragments  of  the  buildings  far  and  wide,  and 
cutting  a broad  way  through  the  overthrown 
multitude.  Then  superstition  and  terror  were 
loud-mouthed.  The  populace,  crushed  and 
dashed  down,  exclaimed  that  a volcano  was 
throwing  up  flame  from  the  mount  of  the 
temple ; that  sulphurous  smokes  were  rising 
through  the  crevices  of  the  ground ; that  the 
rocking  of  an  earthquake  was  felt ; and,  still 
more  terrible,  that  beings  not  to  be  looked  on, 
nor  even  to  be  named,  were  hovering  round 
them  in  the  storm. 

The  general  rush  of  the  multitude,  in  which 
hundreds  were  trampled  down,  and  in  which, 
nothing  but  the  most  violent  efforts  could  keep 
any  on  their  feet,  bore  me  away  for  awhile. 
The  struggle  was  sufficient  to  absorb  all  my 
senses,  for  nothing  could  be  more  perilous. — 
The  darknes  was  intense.  The  peals  of  the 
storm  were  deafening;  and  the  howling  and 
fury  of  the  crowd,  trampling  and  being  tram- 
pled on,  and  fighting  for  life  in  blindness  and 
despair,  with  hand,  foot,  and  dagger,  made  an 
uproar  louder  than  that  of  the  storm.  In  this 
conflict  rather  of  demons  than  of  men,  I was 
whirled  away  in  eddy  after  eddy,  until  chance 
brought  me  again  to  the  foot  of  the  elevation. 

There  I beheld  a new  wonder.  A column 
of  livid  fire  stood  upon  it,  reaching  to  the 
clouds.  I could  discern  the  outline  of  a hu- 
man form  within.  But  while  I expected  to 
see  it  drop  dead,  or  blasted  to  a cinder,  the 
flame  spread  over  the  ground,  and  I saw  its 


150 


Salathiel. 


strange  inhabitant  making  signs  like  those 
of  incantation.  He  drew  a circle  upon  the 
burning  soil,  poured  out  some  unguent, 
which  diffused  a powerful  and  rich  odor, 
razed  the  skin  of  his  arm  with  a dagger, 
and  let  fall  some  drops  of  blood  into  the 
blaze. 

I shuddered  at  the  sight  of  those  palpable 
appeals  to  the  power  of  evil;  but  I was 
pressed  upon  by  thousands,  and  retreat  was 
impossible.  The  magician  then,  with  a 
ghastly  smile  of  triumph,  waved  the  weapon 
towards  the  Roman  camps.  “ Behold,”  he 
cried,  “ the  beginnings  of  vengeance !”  A 
thunder-roll,  that  almost  split  the  ear,  echoed 
round  the  hills.  The  darkness  passed  away 
with  it.  Above  Jerusalem  the  sky  cleared, 
and  cleared  into  a translucence  and  blue 
splendor,  unrivalled  by  the  brightest  sun- 
shine. The  people,  wrought  up  to  the  high- 
est expectancy,  shouted  at  this  promise  of  a 
prouder  deliverance,  and  exclaiming,  “Go- 
shen ! Goshen  !”  looked  breathlessly  for  the 
completion  of  the  plague  upon  the  more 
than  Egyptian  oppressor.  They  were  not 
held  long  in  suspense. 

The  storm  had  cleared  away  from  above 
our  heads  only  to  gather  in  deeper  terrors 
round  the  circle  of  the  hills,  on  which  we 
could  see  the  enemy  in  the  most  overwhelm- 
ing state  of  uncertainty  and  alarm.  The 
clouds  rushed  on,  ridge  over  ridge,  till  the 
whole  horizon  seemed  shut  in  by  a wall  of 
night  towering  to  the  skies.  I heard  the 
deep  voice  of  the  magician  ; at  the  utterance 
of  some  wild  words,  a gleam  played  round 
the  dagger’s  point,  and  the  wall  of  darkness 
was  instantly  a wall  of  fire.  The  storm  was 
let  loose  in  its  rage.  While  we  stood  in 
day-light  and  in  perfect  calm,  the  lightning 
poured  like  sheets  of  rain,  or  gushes  of  burn- 
ing metal  from  a furnace,  upon  the  enemy. 
The  vast  circuit  of  the  camps  was  one  blaze. 
The  wind  tore  every  thing  before  it  with 
irresistible  violence.  We  saw  the  tents 
swept  off  the  ground,  and  driven  far  over 
the  hills  in  flames,  like  meteors ; the  piles 
of  arms  and  banners  blown  away ; the  sol- 
diery clinging  to  the  rocks,  or  flying  to- 


gether in  helpless  crowds,  or  scattering  like 
maniacs,  with  hair  and  garments  on  fire ; 
the  baggage  and  military  machines,  the 
turrets  and  ramparts  sinking  in  flames; 
the  beasts  of  burden  plunging  and  rush- 
ing through  the  lines,  or  lying  in  smoulder- 
ing heaps  where  the  lightning  first  smote 
them. 


CHAPTER  XLVI. 

The  Roman  troop  had  hitherto  remained 
in  stern  composure.  The  visitations  of  na- 
ture they  were  accustomed  to  sustain ; the 
perturbation  of  a Jewish  mob  were  beneath 
the  notice  of  the  universal  conquerors.  But 
the  sight  of  the  havoc  among  their  country- 
men shook  their  stoicism : and  the  cavalry 
that  formed  the  escort  burst  into  indignant 
murmurs  at  the  loud  exultation  of  the  mul- 
titude ; until  the  commander  of  the  troop,  a 
young  officer,  whose  arms  and  bearing  show- 
ed him  to  be  of  the  highest  rank,  unable  to 
restrain  his  feelings,  spurred  to  the  front  of 
the  embarrassed  mission. 

“ How  long,”  exclaimed  he,  “ senators, 
shall  we  stand  here  to  be  scoffed  at  by  these 
wretches'!  The  imperial  guard  feels  itself 
disgraced  by  such  a service.  Will  you  have 
the  troop  openly  mutiny ! If  they  should 
ride  away  and  leave  us  to  ourselves  yvho 
could  blame  them ! Decide  what  is  to  be 
done.  What  will  the  noble  Titus  say,  when 
! we  return  to  tell  him  that  we  stood  by  and 
listened  to  the  taunts  of  those  cooped-up 
slaves  on  him,  the  army,  and  Rome!  But 
* how  long  shall  we  be  suffered  even  to  lis- 
ten ? Linger  here,  and  before  the  day  is 
out,  before  the  hour  is  out,  your  lives  will 
be  at  the  mercy  of  those  assassins.  And, 
by  the  immortal  gods,  richly  shall  we  all 
deserve  our  fate,  for  having  come  into  this 
den  but  as  masters,  riding  over  the  necks  of 
those  last  and  lowest  of  mankind.” 

It  was  fortunate  for  the  speaker  that  he 
spoke  in  a language  but  little  known  to  our 


Salat  hi  el. 


bold  peasantry.  The  senators  held  their 
peace,  and  waited  for  the  subsiding  of  the 
popular  effervescence. 

“Noble  Sempronius,”  exclaimed  the  fiery 
youth  to  a brave  and  lofly-countenanced  man, 
at  the  head  of  the  mission,  “ to  remain  here  is 
only  to  risk  your  safety,  and  the  honor  of  the 
emperor.  Treaty  with  this  people  is  out  of 
the  question.  Give  me  the  order  to  move  now, 
and  I will  be  responsible  for  your  security. — 
Or  rather,  give  me  the  order  to  disperse  this' 
rabble,  and  a single  charge  will  decide  the' 
affair.” 

He  threw  himself  forward  on  his  horse’s 
neck,  and  fijftd  his  look  eagerly  on  the  sena- 
tor’s countenance.  But  the  old  Roman  was 
immovable.  The  magician,  who  had  stood 
with  his  robe  wrapped  round  his  arms,  in  an 
attitude  of  contemptuous  ease,  awaiting  the 
result  of  the  demand,  burst  into  loud  laugh- 
ter. The  young  soldier’s  indignation  was 
roused  by  this  new  object.  He  turned  to  the 
scorner,  and  crying  out,  “ Ha ! is  it  you,  mis- 
creant? you  at  least  shall  not  escape  me,” 
flung  his  lance  full  against  his  bosom.  I saw 
the  weapon  strike  with  prodigious  force;  but 
it  might  as  well  have  struck  a rock.  It  flew 
into  splinters.  The  Roman  rushed  at  him, 
with  his  drawn  falchion.  His  strange  antag- 
onist stood  without  moving  a limb,  and  only 
raised  his  cold,  large  eye.  The  charger,  in 
his  fiercest  bound,  instantly  swerved,  and  had 
nearly  unseated  his  rider.  Nothing  could 
bring  him  forward  again.  Spur  and  voice 
were  useless.  The  animal,  a magnificent 
jet-black,  of  the  largest  Turcoman  breed, 
strong  as  a bull  and  bold  as  a lion,  could  not 
abide  that  stem  eye.  He  galloped  madly 
round  and  round,  but  the  attempt  to  urge  him 
against  the  stranger  stopped  him  as  if  he  were 
stabbed.  Then,  with  every  muscle  in  his 
frame  palpitating,  his  broad  chest  heaving, 
his  nostrils  breathing  out  thick  vapor,  and  the 
foam  flying  over  his  front  like  snow,  he  would 
plunge  and  roar,  til!,  mastering  his  powerful 
rider,  he  wheeled  round,  and  darted  away. 

The  shouts  of  scorn  that  rose  from  the  pop- 
ulace at  every  fresh  failure  doubly  enraged 
the  younjr  Roman.  He  made  a final  effort, 
and  grasping  the  bridle  in  both  hands,  and  dash- 
ing in  the  spur,  at  length  succeeded  in  forc- 
ing on  the  wearied  charger.  The  noble  crea- 
ture at  one  immense  leap  reached  the  fated 
spot.  But  there  he  was  fixed,  as  if  some 
power  had  transformed  him  into  stone.  He 
no  longer  staggered  nor  swerved,  but  crouch- 
ing down,  with  his  feet  thrust  forward,  his 
crest  stooped,  his  nostrils  on  the  ground,  and 
his  brilliant  eye  strained  and  filmy,  as  if  he 
were  growing  blind,  stood  gazing  with  a look 
of  almost  human  horror.  The  furious  rider 
struck  him  on  the  head  with  the  flat  of  his 
falchion.  The  charger  gathered  up  his  limbs 


at  the  blow,  reared  straight  as  a column,  and 
bellowing,  plunged  upon  his  forehead.  There 
was  a general  cry  of  terror  even  among  the 
multitude,  and  they  rushed  forward  to  help  him 
to  rise.  But  he  rose  no  more.  He  rolled 
over  and  over,  and  stretching  out  his  limbs 
with  a convulsion,  died. 

The  tumult  was  on  the  point  of  being  re- 
newed ; for  the  soldiery  pushed  forward  to  bear 
away  their  officer,  who  lay  like  a corpse;  but 
the  crowd  had  already  covered  the  ground  ; 
and  blows  were  given  on  both  sides.  Indig- 
nant at  the  interruption  of  the  armistice,  and 
the  injury  that  threatened  the  sacred  person 
of  ambassadors,  I forced  my  way  through  the 
crowd,  and  by  exerting  a strength  with  which 
few  could  cope,  rescued  the  body  of  the  young 
Roman,  and  delivering  it  to  the  mission,  pro- 
tested against  their  construing  the  casual 
violence  of  rioters  into  the  determination  of 
the  people. 

I had  partially  succeeded  in  calming  their 
resentment,  and  in  restraining  the  bloodthirsty 
weapons  that  were  already  glittering  in  num- 
berless hands;  when  a sound  like  that  of  a 
trumpet,  distant,  but  blown  with  tremendous 
force,  struck  every  ear  at  once. 

The  masrician  pointed  to  the  heavens  d irect- 
ly  above  his  head.  A small  fragment  of  cloud, 
that  seemed  to  have  escaped  from  the  mass  of 
the  tempest  only  to  contrast  with  the  bright- 
ness, was  floating  along  the  zenith.  He  took 
tip  his  parable : “ Have  1 not  covered  the 
heavens  with  a cloud  ? saitli  the  Mighty  One. 
Have  I not  said  to  the  sun,  Be  dark  ; and  to  the 
moon  and  stars,  Be  ashamed  ? Have  I not 
hidden  mine  enemies  in  the  shroud,  and  said 
to  the  whirlwind,  Go  forth  and  slay  1” 

His  gesture  turned  all  eyes  to  the  wrecks 
of  the  Roman  camp,  where  the  whirlwind 
continued  to  ravage  and  the  thunders  still 
roared.  Then  throwing  himself  forward, 
with  a look  full  of  wild  grandeur,  and  in  a 
voice  hollow  and  appalling  as  the  storm,  he 
exclaimed  : — 

“ Behold ! this  day  shall  a wonder  be 
wrought  among  you  : — this  day  shall  a mighty 
thing  be  brought  to  pass.  Kings  shall  see  it, 
and  tremble  ; yea,  the  heathen  shall  melt  be- 
fore thee.  Their  strength  shall  be  as  water, 
and  their  hearts  as  the  burning  flax.  Sorrow 
shall  be  on  them,  as  the  locust  on  the  green 
field  ; and  they  shall  flee  as  from  a lion.  Be- 
hold ! in  a cloud  shall  a sword  be  brandished 
before  thee;  in  smoke  and  in  fire  shalt  thou 
conquer.  For  his  angel  shall  come;  and  the 
sword  and  the  flame  shall  at  this  hour  be  a 
sign  unto  Israel !” 

Whether  by  the  proverbial  sagacity  of  the 
wanderers  of  the  desert,  by  knowledge  from 
some  darker  source,  or  simply  by  one  of  those 
coincidences  which  so  curiously  come  to  sus- 
tain the  credit  of  daring  conjecture,  the  littl 


Salathiel. 


orbed  vapor  began  to  lengthen,  and  rapidly 
assumed  the  shape  of  a sword  ! 

Dreading  the  popular  power  of  imposture, 
and  the  uses  to  which  it  would  inevitably  be 
applied,  I was  glad  that  this  extraordinary 
being  had  thus  put  himself  upon  his  trial ; and 
I stood  gazing  in  eager  expectation  that  some 
passing  gust  would  dissipate  at  once  the 
cloud,  and  the  reputation  of  the  prophet. — 
Yet,  utterly  scorning  the  common  pretensions 
of  the  rambling  practisers  of  forbidden  arts, 
I knew  thatawful  things  had  been  done;  that, 
most  of  all,  in  these  latter  days  of  our  coun- 
try, strange  influences  were  let  loose,  perhaps 
to  plunge  into  deeper  ruin  a people  guiltily 
prone  to  take  refuge  in  delusions.  I had 
heard  prophecies,  hideous  and  unholy,  yet 
which  were  never  taught  by  man ; 1 had  seen 
a command  of  the  elements,  that  utterly  defied 
philosophy  to  account  for  them.  If,  in  the 
last  vengeance  of  heaven,  evil  spirits  were 
ever  suffered  to  go  forth  and  give  their  power 
to  evil  men,  for  the  purpose  of  binding  faster 
in  the  chains  of  falsehood  a race  who  loved  a 
lie,  it  was  in  those  hours  of  signs  and  won- 
ders, that  might,  if  possible,  deceive  the  very 
elect. 

To  my  astonishment,  the  cloud  suddenly 
changed  its  color : from  white  it  became  in- 
tensely red  ; and,  in  a few  moments  more,  it 
burst  into  a flame,  and  threw  a broad  reflec- 
tion upon  the  whole  atmosphere.  It  was,  pal- 
pably, a vast  falchion  of  fire — the  centre  of  a 
fiery  halo.  And  from  that  hour  to  the  last  of 
the  glorious  and  unhappy  city  of  David,  that 
flaming  sword,  the  sign  of  wrath  predicted  a 
thousand  years  before,  blazed  day  and  night 
over  Jerusalem  ! 

But  its  instant  effect  was  terrible.  The  mul- 
titude, already  indignant  against  the  Romans, 
and  restrained  only  by  my  desperate  efforts, 
were  now  roused  to  the  highest  pitch  of  pre- 
sumption. To  doubt  of  the  help  of  heaven 
was  impiety,  after  this  open  wonder:  to  spare 
an  hour  between  this  divine  command,  and 
the  extermination  of  the  idolaters,  was  sacri- 
lege. They  poured  round  the  unfortunate 
troop;  and  instantly  overwhelmed  them,  as 
an  earthquake  would  have  overwhelmed  them. 
A mass  of  human  life,  dense  as  the  ground  it 
trod  upon,  broke  over  them.  The  Romans 
struggled  heroically : I saw  their  charges 
often  make  fearful  way;  and  their  swords  and 
lances  dripping  with  blood  every  time  that 
they  were  whirled  round  their  heads.  But 
the  conflict  was  too  unequal ; one  by  one  those 
brave  men  were  torn  down  ; I saw  them  swept 
along  by  the  torrent,  fewer  and  fewer,  still 
above  the  living  wave;  gradually  separated 
more  widely  from  each  other,  each  man  faintly 
struggling  for  himself,  flinging  his  feeble 
arms'to  the  right  and  left,  till,  dizzy  with  fa- 
tigue and  despair,  at  last  down  he  went,  and 


the  roaring  tide  closed  over  him.  All  per- 
ished ; and  a day  of  hope  was  closed  in  super- 
stition, treachery,  and  inexpiable  murder. 

It  was  night  before  I could  extricate  my- 
self from  the  tumult.  The  attempt  to  save 
the  unfortunate  men  who  so  fatally  trusted  to 
our  good  faith,  had  led  me  gradually  down  to 
the  gates ; and  the  greater  portion  of  the  city 
lay  between  me  and  home.  To  traverse  it 
was  still  a matter  of  danger.  Furious  festi- 
vity had  succeeded  to  conflict : the  roving 
mountaineers  made  little  difference  between 
a stranger  and  an  enemy ; aruj  whether  in- 
flamed with  wine,  triumph,  or  the  love  of  vio- 
lence, the  carousers,  on  that  night,  were 
masters  of  Jerusalem. 

I kept  my  course  through  the  less  frequent- 
ed ways;  and  leaving  on  either  side  the  great 
avenues,  crowded  with  tents,  and  glittering 
with  illumination,  committed  myself  to  the 
quiet  light  of  the  moon,  now  touching  the 
eastern  verge. 

But  in  choosing  the  more  solitary  streets,  1 
was,  without  recollecting  it,  led  into  the  open 
place  where  the  late  disturbance  had  begun; 
and  1 felt  some  vague  dread  of  passing  a spot 
on  which  had  appeared  a being  so  singular  as 
the  leader  of  the  day. 

By  a compromise  with  my  prudence,  I kept 
as  far  from  the  hillock  as  possible;  and  was 
moving  rapidly  along  beside  the  wall  of  one 
of  the  huge  buildings  of  Herod,  when  I felt 
my  robe  grasped.  In  the  nervousness  of  the 
time,  and  doubtful  from  what  region  of  earth  or 
air  my  antagonist  in  that  place  of  spells  might 
come,  1 drew  my  dagger  with  a sensation 
that  I had  never  felt  in  the  field,  and  setting 
my  back  against  the  wall,  stood  on  my  defence. 
But  a groan  and  a fall  at  my  feet  made  me 
sheathe  the  weapon,  and  ascertain  how  far  I 
could  relieve  the  sufferer.  I raised  him  from 
the  ground,  and  by  the  moon-light  recognised 
the  commander  of  the  escort.  The  dying 
struggles  of  his  charger  had  crushed  him ; 
and  the  multitude,  too  busy  to  try  whether  life 
was  or  was  not  totally  extinguished,  aban- 
doned him  to  his  fate. 

To  leave  him  where  he  was,  was  to  leave 
him  to  perish.  I owed  somethingto  the  sur- 
vivor of  the  unfortunate  mission ; and  my  short 
consultation  closed,  by  carrying  him  on  my 
shoulders  to  the  door  of  my  comfortless  dwell- 
ing. 

The  Roman  had  dearly  learned  to  dis- 
trust Jewish  fidelity.  The  gloom  inside  the 
entrance,  looked  the  very  color  of  secret  mur- 
der; and  during  the  time  of  his  transit  from 
the  market-place,  he  had  found  leisure  to  con- 
clude that  he  was  the  victim  of  but  a more 
dexterious  assassin,  who  wished  to  join  the 
profit  of  plunder  to  the  national  pleasure  of 
revenge.  Even  the  dismantled  appearance 


Salathiel. 


153 


of  the  exterior  was  enough  for  suspicion ; 
and  he  firmly  ordered  that  I should  terminate 
my  good  offices  at  the  threshold.  Irritated 
and  insulted  by  his  obvious  meaning,  I left 
him  to  his  wish  ; and  placing  him  in  the  full- 
est enjoyment  of  such  security  as  the  open 
street  and  moon-light  could  give,  took  my 
farewell,  bidding  him  in  future  have  a better 
opinion  of  mankind. 

Yet  I was  to  be  startled  in  my  turn.  As  I 
rather  climbed,  than  ascended,  the  broken 
staircase,  I saw  an  unusual  light  from  the 
chambers  above,  and  heard  the  sound  of  voices, 
and  the  movement  of  rapid  feet.  Accustomed 
as  I was  to  reverses,  I felt  tenfold  alarm  from 
the  preciousness  of  my  stake.  The  ferocious 
bands  that  crowded  the  streets,  inflamed  with 
wine  and  blood,  could  have  no  scruples  where 
plunder  tempted  them  ; and,  in  the  strong 
persuasion  that  some  misfortune  had  happened 
in  my  long  absence,  I lingered  in  doubt,  whe- 
ther I should  not  return  to  the  streets,  collect 
what  assistance  I could  among  the  passers-by, 
and  crush  the  robbers  by  main  force.  But 
sudden  exclamations,  and  hurried  feet  above, 
left  me  no  time ; I darted  up  the  shattered 
steps,  and  breathlessly  threw  open  the  door. 

Well  might  I wonder.  I saw  a superb 
room  hung  with  tapestry ; a table  in  the  cen- 
tre covered  with  plate  and  viands;  a rich 
lamp  illuminating  the  chamber;  stately  fur- 
niture ; a fire  blazing  on  a tripod,  and  throw- 
ing a cheering  warmth  and  delicious  odor 
round ; and  to  enjoy  all  this,  not  a living 
creature. 

But  whatever  my  anxieties  might  be,  they 
were  delightfully  scattered  by  the  voice  of 
Esther,  who  came  flying  towards  me  with 
outstretched  arms,  and  a face  bright  with  joy. 
From  the  inner  chamber  followed  more  mes- 
sengers of  good  tidings,  Miriam  and  Salome 
leading  Constantius.  They  had  watched  over 
him  from  the  time  of  my  departure,  with  a 
sickly  alternation  of  hope  and  fear ; as  the 
evening  approached,  he  seemed  dying.  Sa- 
lome, with  the  jealousy  of  deep  sorrow,  desir- 
ed to  be  left  alone  with  him ; and  the  two  sad 
listeners  at  the  door  expected  every  moment 
the  cry  of  agony  announcing  his  irreparable 
loss.  They  heard  a cry  of  joy : the  torpor  was 
gone  ; and  Constantius  was  sitting  up,  raised 
to  new  life,  wondering  at  all  round  him,  and 
uttering  the  raptures  of  gratitude  and  love. 

The  rush  of  feet  that  had  impelled  me  to 
my  abrupt  entrance,  was  the  haste  of  my  fam- 
ily to  bring  the  recovered  patient  in  triumph 
from  his  weary  bed  into  the  view  of  the  com- 
forts provided  for  him  and  me.  The  change 
wrought  in  the  chamber  itself,  was  explained 
by  the  presence  of  two  old  domestics,  who, 
after  the  flight  of  the  former  possessors,  had 
been  overlooked,  and  suffered  to  hide  rather 
than  live  in  a corner  of  the  ruin.  They  had 


contrived,  in  the  general  spoliation,  to  secrete 
some  of  the  precious  things  which  the  haste 
of  plunder  had  not  time  to  seize.  The  pres- 
ence of  a noble  family  under  the  honored  roof 
once  more,  brought  out  their  feelings  and  trea- 
sures together  ; and  by  the  graceful  dexterity 
of  Miriam  and  Esther,  were  those  sad  and 
naked  walls  converted  into  an  apartment  not 
unworthy  to  be  inhabited  by  themselves. 

While  I was  indulging  in  the  luxury  which 
those  gentle  ministers  provided,  the  thought 
of  the  unfortunate  Roman  occured  to  me.  I 
slightly  mentioned  him,  and  every  voice  was 
raised  to  have  him  brought  in  from  the  haz- 
ards of  the  night.  Constantius,  feeble  as  he 
was,  rose  from  his  couch  to  assist  in  this  work 
of  hospitality  ; but  he  was  under  a fond  tyrant 
who  would  not  suffer  her  Commands  to  be 
questioned.  Salome’s  orders  were  obeyed ; 
and  to  the  old  domestic  and  me  was  destined 
the  undivided  honor. 

I found  the  wounded  officer  lying  on  the 
spot  where  I had  parted  with  him,  gazing  on 
the  moon,  and  humming  a gay  popular  air  in 
a most  melancholy  tone.  He  had  palpably 
made  up  his  reckoning  with  this  world ; and, 
calmly  waiting  until  some  Jewish  knife  should 
put  an  end  to  his  song,  he  determined  to  save 
himself  from  the  trouble  of  thinking,  and  die 
like  a man  who  had  nothing  better  to  do.  But 
the  struggle  was  against  nature ; and  as  I 
slowly  felt  my  way  along  the  obscure  passage, 
I had  time  to  hear  the  song  flutter,  and  now 
and  then  a groan  supersede  it  altogether.  My 
step  caught  his  quick  ear,  and  I heard  in  re- 
turn the  ringing  of  a sword  plucked  sharply 
from  the  scabbard. 

The  bold  Roman,  reckless  as  he  was  of  life, 
was  evidently  resolved  not  to  let  it  go  without 
a price ; and  it  was  probably  fortunate  for  me, 
or  my  old  and  tottering  fellow-philanthropist, 
that  the  ruinous  state  of  the  passages  com- 
pelled us  to  take  time  in  our  advance. 

“ Two  of  them,”  I heard  him  mutter,  as 
we  gradually  worked  our  way  towards  the 
light,  “ two  of  them,  and  perhaps  twenty  at 
their  backs.”  He  tried  to  raise  himself  up 
against  the  door-post,  leaning  on  one  hand, 
and  with  the  other  feebly  pointing  the  falchion 
to  keep  us  off  “ Thieves,”  said  he,  “ let  us 
understand  each  other.  If  you  must  cut  my 
throat,  you  must  fight  for  it ; and  after  all,  I 
have  nothing  to  make  it  worth  your  trouble. 
By  Jove  and  Venus,”  and  he  laughed  with 
the  strange  jocularity  that  sometimes  besets 
the  bold  in  the  last  peril,  “ the  cleverest  rob- 
ber in  Jerusalem  could  make  nothing  of  me.”  I 
stood  in  the  shadow,  listening  till  he  had  dis- 
burdened his  soul.  “ My  clothes  would  not 
sell  for  the  smallest  coin  in  your  sashes ; 1 
could  not  furnish  out  a scarecrow ; — yet,  Jew- 
ish patriots,  or  thieves,  or  saints,  or  all  together, 
I will  tell  you  how  you  can  make  money  of 


154 


Salalhiel. 


me.  Take  me  to  the  Roman  camp,  and  I an- 
swer for  your  fortune  on  the  spot.”  I laugh- 
ed in  my  turn.  “ By  all  that’s  honest,  I never 
was  more  serious  in  my  life,”  said  he.  “ Far 
be  it  from  me  to  trifle  with  heroes  of  your  pro- 
fession. You  shall  have  this  helmet-full  of 
gold  Vespasians.” 

“ Well,  then,  you  shall  live  at  least  for  to- 
night. However,  there  is  one  condition  which 
I cannot  give  up — ” 

“Of  course,  that  I give  you  two  helmets- 
full  instead  of  one.  Agreed.” 

“ The  condition  from  which  nothing  can 
make  me  recede  is — ” 

“Three  times  the  money  ; or  ten  times  the 
money  ?”  I pondered.  The  old  domestic 
stared  at  us  both. 

“ Why ; you  extravagant  Jew,  have  you  no 
conscience  1 Recollect  how  little  the  lives  of 
half  the  generals  in  the  service  are  worth  half 
the  sum.  But,  say  any  thing  short  of  the  mili- 
tary chest — out  with  the  condition  at  once.” 

“ That  you  come  instantly  with  me  to  sup- 
per.” 

The  formidable  stipulation  was  gaily  acced- 
ed to.  The  old  domestic  and  I supported  him 
up  the  stairs,  whose  condition,  as  he  afterwards 
allowed,  led  him  still  to  nurture  shrewd  doubts 
of  Jewish  hospitality.  But,  when  I opened 
the  door  of  the  chamber,  and  he  saw  the  strik- 
ing preparations  within,  he  uttered  a cry  of 
surprise ; and  turning,  bowed  with  Italian 
grace,  in  tacit  acknowledgment  of  the  wrong 
that  he  had  done  me. 

As  I led  him  forward,  and  the  light  fell  on 
his  features,  I saw  Esther’s  countenance  glow 
with  crimson.  The  Roman  pronounced  her 
name  and  flew  over  to  her.  Miriam — we  all, 
in  the  same  moment,  recognized  the  stranger, 
and  every  lip  at  once  uttered  “ Septimius  !” 

A few  campaigns  in  the  imperial  guard  had 
changed  the  handsome  Italian  boy,  the  friend 
and  favorite  of  Constantius,  into  the  showy 
officer,  the  friend  and  favorite  of  every  body ; 
with  the  elegance  of  the  court,  and  the  free- 
dom of  the  camp,  he  had  inherited  from  na- 
ture the  easy  lightness  and  animation  of  tem- 
per, that  neither  can  give.  Nothing  could  be 
more  amusing  than  the  restless  round  of  anec- 
dote that  he  kept  up  through  the  night.  The 
circle  in  which  he  found  himself,  contrasted 
with  the  wretchedness  of  the  few  hours  before, 
let  his  recollections  flow  with  wild  vivacity. 
His  stories,  however  exhausted  in  the  society 
of  the  imperial  tent,  were  new  to  us,  and  he 
told  them  with  the  taste  of  a man  of  high 
breeding,  and  a sarcastic  finish  of  a keen  ob- 
server of  the  absurdities  that  will  creep  in 
among  the  mighty  and  the  wise  of  the  world. 

In  our  several  ways  he  delighted  us  all. 
Constantius  seemed  to  gain  years  of  health, 
laughing  at  the  ludicrous  histories  of  his  mili- 
tary friends.  Salome’s  face  glistened  with 


the  vividness  so  long  chased  away  by  sorrow, 
as  the  manners  of  Rome  passed  before  her  in 
the  liveliest  colors  of  pleasantry.  Esther  trea- 
sured every  word,  with  an  emotion  that  fluc- 
tuated across  her  beauty,  like  the  opening  and 
shutting  of  a rose  under  the  evening  breeze. 
I was  interested  by  the  pungent  sketches  of 
public  character,  that  started  up  in  the  midst 
,of  sportive  description.  Miriam  alone  was  re- 
jluctant,  and  her  glance  frequently  rested  with 
pain  on  Esther’6  hectic  cheek;  but  even  Mi- 
riam sometimes  gave  way  to  the  voice  of  the 
charmer;  her  fears  were  forgotten,  and  she 
[ joined  in  the  general  smile. 

When  the  females  retired,  we  held  a short 
consultation  on  the  means  of  restoring  our 
guest  to  his  friends.  In  the  immediate  dis- 
turbance of  the  city,  to  be  seen  was  to  en- 
counter certain  death  ; and  no  pacific  inter- 
course with  the  besiegers  could  be  expected 
after  our  enormous  infraction  of  treaty.  Con- 
stantius urged  the  despatch  of  a private  messen- 
ger to  the  camp,  with  some  proposals  of  a plan 
for  his  escape.  To  my  surprise,  and  certain- 
ly to  my  gratification,  Septimius  himself  flatly 
negatived  the  measure. 

“ It  has  too  much  hazard  for  my  taste,”  said 
he,  sportively.  “ Your  messenger  will  proba- 
bly be  caught  by  the  people,  and  as  probably 
hanged : or,  if  he  reach  the  camp,  he  will  be 
hanged  there  inevitably.  Jewish  credit  in 
general,  does  not  stand  high  within  these 
twelve  hours  with  my  countrymen.  If  the 
fellow  die  here  like  a woman, — with  a story 
in  his  mouth,  you  will  be  brought  under  the 
justice  of  your  sovereign  lord,  the  mob,  aiid 
there  will  be  an  end  to  every  human  being 
belonging  to  you.  If  my  countrymen  inflict 
the  axe,  you  are  not  the  safer ; for  every  pea- 
sant about  the  camp  is  a spy,  and  the  news  will 
travel  here  in  the  next  half  hour ; and,  after 
all,  your  trouble  will  be  thrown  away.  Titus 
has  good-nature  enough,  and  probably  would 
not  wish  to  see  me  hoisted  on  the  top  of  a pike 
on  your  gates ; but  he  is  a furious  disciplina- 
rian, swears  by  the  law  of  honor  and  arms, 
and  is,  I well  know,  chafing,  like  a roused 
lion,  against  every  one  who  has  had  a share 
; in  this  day’s  business.  I myself  should  have 
a chance  of  hanging  for  an  example,  if  1 re- 
turned before  his  sovereign  displeasure  had 
time  to  cool.  My  relationship  to  him  would 
(be  only  a feather  in  the  cap  of  his  military 
stoicism : and  minor  personages  would  be 
; warned  against  ill  luck  by  the  sight  of  the  pen- 
dent blood  imperial.  So,  I must  trespass  on 
your  hospitality  for  a day  or  two.” 

“ But  what  is  to  be  finally  done?”  said  I. 
“ The  armistice  can  never  be  tried  again.” 

“Why  not?  Do  you  think  that  the  loss 
of  a few  troopers  can  make  any  difference? 

| Out  of  twenty  thousand  cavalry  we  can. easily 
spare  a hundred.  Those  things  have  happen- 


Salalhiel. 


155 


ed  once  a week  since  the  beginning  of  the 
campaign.  They  agree  witli  our  notions  ad- 
mirably. The  survivers  get  promotion  ; and 
whatever  libation  they  may  offer  for  their  good 
luck,  it  is  certainly  not  tears.  A stupid  officer, 
and  on  this  occasion  I fairly  reckon  myself 
among  the  number,  is  taken  off  the  roll  before 
he  might  have  the  opportunity  of  doing  mis- 
chief by  some  blunder  on  a larger  scale  : ex- 
perience is  gained  ; dinners  are  given  by  the 
successors ; we  are  entrapped  no  more,  at 
least  in  the  same  way  ; and  a parcel  of  unfor- 
tunates, who  have  spent  half  their  lives  in 
railing  at  the  world,  and  being  browbeat  by 
their  superiors,  suddenly  start  into  rank,  be- 
come superiors  themselves,  learn  to  browbeat 
in  their  turn,  and  bless  the  day  when  the  wheel 
of  fortune,  if  it  rolled  down  for  others,  rolled 
up  for  them.  You  will  have  the  armistice 
again  in  a week.” 

The  ease  of  this  confession  of  soldership 
repelled  me  a little  ; but  its  air  of  frankness 
and  disregard  of  chance  and  care,  carried  it 
off  showily.  I too  was  but  a peasant  soldier, 
with  my  heart  in  every  thing.  The  man  be- 
fore me  was  a son  of  the  camp,  the  profes- 
sional warrior,  whose  business  it  was  to  stifle 
all  feelings  but  those  of  the  camp.  Yet, 
heroism  and  hard-heartedness ! — I could  not 
join  them.  I had  still  something  to  learn  ; 
and  the  gay  philosopher  of  the  sword  lost 
ground  with  me. 

I was  retiring  for  the  night ; when  I felt 
the  soft  hand  of  Miriam  on  my  shoulder, — “I 
have  been  anxious,”  said  she,  “ to  ask  your 
opinion  about  this  Roman.”  Her  fine  counte- 
nance, that  reflected  every  emotion  of  her 
spirit  like  a mirror,  showed  that  the  subject 
wa?  one  of  deep  interest.  “ Is  misfortune  al- 
ways to  pursue  us,  Salathiel  1”  “ In  what  pos- 
sible shape  at  present  1”  said  I.  “ We  have 
spent  some  hours  as  amusinsr  as  I ever  remem- 
ber. What  can  have  occurred  since  this 
morning,  when  your  philosophy  made  so  light 
of  our  actual  evils'?”  “ For  external  evils  I 
have  but  little  feeling,”  was  her  answer : but 
I see  in  the  chance  that  brought  Septimius 
here  to-night  something  of  the  fate  which  you 
have  so  often  said  follows  your  house.  I trem- 
ble for  Esther’s  peace  of  mind.  What  if  she 
should  be  attracted  by  this  Roman  ?” 

“Esther!  my  darling  Esther!  love  an  alien? 
a Roman  idolator  ? What  an  abyss  you  open 
before  me !” 

“ While  Septimius  remained  among  us  in 
the  mountains,  I saw  with  terror  that  Esther’s 
beauty  attracted  him.  His  Italian  elegance 
was  even  then  a dangerous  charm  for  a mind 
so  inexperienced  and  sensitive  as  her’s.  I 
knew  the  impossibility  of  their  union,  and  re- 
joiced when  his  recovery  allowed  of  his  leav- 
ing the  palace.  But,  for  a long  period  after, 
Esther  was  evidently  unhappy ; her  spirits 
11 


gave  way : she  became  fonder  of  solitude ; 
and  I believe  that  nothing  but  extreme  care, 
and  the  change  of  scene  which  followed,  pre- 
served her  from  the  grave.” 

| “ Miriam  ! I have  no  comfort  to  offer.  1 

am  a stricken  man  ; misfortune  must  be  my 
portion.  But,  if  any  thing  were  to  bereave 
me  of  that  girl,  I feel  that  my  heart  would 
break.  We  must  delay  no  longer.  By  the 
first  light  the  Roman  shall  quit  this  house, — 
this  city.  He  shall  not  stay  another  hour  to 
poison  the  peace  of  my  family:  the  only  peace 
that  I now  can  consider  or  enjoy  in  the  world.” 
“ Yet,  rashness  must  not  disgrace  what  is 
true  wisdom,  my  Salathiel.  The  Roman  is 
here  protected  by  the  laws  of  courtesy.  You 
cannot  send  him  forth  without  giving  him  over 
to  the  horrid  temper  of  the  populace.  A few 
days  may  make  that  escape  easy,  which  would 
now  be  impossible.  Besides,  I may  have  done 
him  injustice,  and  mistaken  the  common  plea- 
sure of  seeing  unexpected  friends,  for  the  at- 
tempt to  mislead  the  affections  of  our  inno- 
cent and  ardent  child.” 

“No!  By  the  first  light,  he  leaves  this 
roof.  The  truth  glares  on  me.  I might  have 
seen  it  in  his  looks.  His  language,  however 
general,  was  perpetually  directed  to  Esther 
by  some  personal  allusion.  His  voice  lost  its 
ease  when  he  answered  a remark  of  her’s. 
After  she  spoke,  he  affected  abstraction;  an 
old  artifice.  His  manner  is  too  well  calcu- 
lated to  disturb  the  mind  of  woman — and  most 
of  all,  of  woman  cursed  with  feeling  and  ge- 
nius. Esther  has  already  imagined  this  bril- 
liant profligate  into  a wonder!  I must  break 
the  spell,  or  she  must  perish.  What  is  to  be- 
come of  her?  of  me?  man  of  misery  ! — By  the 
first  dawn  the  Roman  takes  his  departure.” 
In  bitterness  of  soul  I turned  from  the  cham- 
ber, where  the  lamps,  still  burning,  and  the 
glittering  table,  looked  too  bright  for  the 
gloomy  spirit  of  the  hour.  The  cool  air  that 
breathed  through  a casement  led  me  towards 
it ; and,  disinclined  to  speak,  and  holding 
Miriam’s  hand,  I listened  to  the  confused  and 
sleepy  murmurs  of  the  city  below. 

I felt  the  hand  in  mine  tremble  convulsive- 
ly. Miriam’s  face  was  pale  with  fear ; she 
stood  with  lips  apart  and  breathless ; brows 
knitted ; eyes  straining  upwards.  In  utter 
alarm,  I asked  the  cause.  She  lifted  the 
hand,  which  had  fallen  by  her  side,  and  slow- 
ly, like  the  staff  of  the  soothsayer,  pointed  to 
the  heavens.  The  cause  was  there.  The  omi- 
nous sword  had,  for  the  first  time,  met  her  eye. 
The  blaze,  which  even  in  noon-day  was  fear- 
fully visible,  in  midnight  was  tremendous.  A 
blade,  of  the  deepest  hue  of  gore,  stretched 
over  the  vast  horizon,  pouring  from  its  edge 
perpetual  streams  and  showers  of  crimson 
I flame,  that  looked  like  showers  of  fresh  blood. 
Boundless  slaughter  was  in  the  emblem.  Be- 


156 


Salathiel. 


yond  it  the  circle  of  the  sky  was  wan  ; the 
stars  sickened  ; and  the  moon,  though  at  the 
full,  hung  like  an  orb  of  lead.  The  mighty 
falchion,  the  pledge  of  a terrible  and  inevita- 
ble judgment,  extinguished  all  the  beneficent 
splendors  of  heaven. 

“ There,  there  is  the  sign  that  I have  seen 
for  months  in  my  dreams,”  said  Miriam,  in  an 
awed  voice;  “ that  has  haunted  me  whenever 
I laid  my  head  upon  my  pillow ; that  has  been 
before  me  in  the  day,  wherever  I moved  ; that 
I have  seen  coloring  every  object,  every  mo- 
ment of  my  life,  since  I entered  these  fated 
walls.  I have  struggled  to  drive  away  the 
horrid  image ; I have  wept  and  prayed.  But 
it  was  where  nothing  could  unfix  it.  It  was 
pictured  on  my  mind;  and  with  it  came  other 
images,  fearful,  though  they  brought  me  no 
terrors.  Melancholy  sights  to  those  who  have 
no  hope  but  here;  yet  glorious  to  the  servants 
of  the  truth,  Salathiel.  I have  had  warnings. 
I must  never  leave  the  city  of  David.”  Sire 
knelt,  in  the  deep  prayer  of  the  soul. 

1 Her  words  came  on  me  with  the  power  of 
prophecy.  “ King  and  Protector  of  Israel !” 
I exclaimed,  “ is  this  to  be  the  suffering  of 
thy  holy  ones'?  On  me  let  thy  will  be  done. 
But,  spare  her  who  now  kneels  before  thee. 
Are  the  pure  to  be  given  into  the  hands  of  the 
merciless,  and  thy  children  to  be  trampled  as 
the  ashes  of  the  pile !” 

My  impatient  voice  caught  Miriam’s  ear, 
and  she  arose  with  a countenance  beaming 
wisdom  and  love. 

“Salathiel,  we  must  not  murmur.  Even 
that  sight  of  awe,  that  terrible  emblem,  has 
taught  me  the  selfishness  of  my  anxieties. 
What  are  our  petty,  personal  sorrows  to  the 
weight  of  affliction  figured  in  that  in- 
strument of  supreme  wrath  ? The  woe  of 
millions,  the  blood  of  a nation,  the  ruin  of  the 
glorious  fabric  built  by  the  hands  of  the  Eter- 
nal for  his  glory  and  the  good  of  mankind,  the 
fall  of  Israel,  is  written  in  letters  of  flame  be- 
fore our  eyes ; and  can  I complain  of  the 
chances  and  hazards  which  may  fall  to  my 
share  ? Henceforth,  my  husband  and  my 
love,”  and  she  threw  herself  into  my  willing 
arms,  “you  shall  never  be  disturbed  with  my 
griefs ; exercise  your  own  powerful  under- 
standing, guard  against  evil  by  your  talents 
and  knowledge  of  life,  as  far  as  it  can  be  guard- 
ed against  by  man:  and  beyond  that,  disdain 
to  repine  or  fear.  In  my  supplication  I have 
committed  our  child  into  the  hands  of  Him 
who  sitteth  on  the  circle  of  eternity  !” 

Quivering  with  every  finer  feeling  of  the 
heart,  maternal  love,  matron  faith,  and  grate- 
ful adoration,  she  hung  upon  my  neck,  until,' 
as  if  a portion  of  her  noble  spirit  had  passed 
into  mine,  I felt  a confidence  and  consolation 
.ike  her  own. 


CHAPTER  XLVII. 


I was  spared  the  ungraciousness  of  urging 
the  young  soldier’s  departure ; for  when  I met 
him  next  morning,  his  first  topic  was  the 
means  of  escape.  He  had  been  since  day- 
break examining  from  my  turrets  the  acces- 
sible passages  of  the  fortifications,  and  had 
even,  by  the  help  of  a peasant,  despatched  a 
letter  to  his  friends,  requesting  either  a formal 
demand  of  his  person  from  the  Jews,  or  some 
private  effort  to  extricate  him. 

But,  with  the  night  the  glow  of  soldiership 
was  gone.  In  the  fall  of  his  charger  he  had 
been  violently  bruised.  He  complained  of  in- 
ward suffering,  and  his  pallid  face  and  feeble 
words  gave  painful  proof  that  he  had  still  much 
to  undergo.  Though,  even  if  he  were  perfectly 
recovered,  the  crowded  battlements  and  the 
popular  rage,  showed  the  impossibility  of  im- 
mediate return. 

Three  days  passed  thus  drearily.  At  home 
I was  surrounded  by  sickness,  or  vexed  by  sus- 
picion, the  worse  sickness  of  the  mind.  Sep- 
timius  lay  in  his  chamber,  struggling  to  laugh, 
talk,  and  read  away  the  heavy  hours;  and, 
finally,  like  all  such  strugglers,  giving  up  the 
task  in  despair;  his  ideas  were  in  the  Roman 
camp.  He  professed  gratitude  of  the  deepest 
nature  for  the  service  that  I had  done  him  now 
for  the  second  time;  “if  saving  so  unimpor- 
tant a life  was  a service  either  to  him  or  any 
one  else.  Yet,  he  almost  wished  that  he  had 
been  left  where  he  was  found.  A man  could 
not  finish  his  course  better  than  among  his 
gallant  comrades;  and  with  all  his  anxiety 
to  return,  he  felt  no  trivial  concern  as  to  the 
view  which  Titus  might  take  of  the  whole 
unfortunate  affair.  Of  justice  he  was  secure; 
but  to  be  questioned  for  his  military  conduct, 
was  in  itself  a degradation.  The  loss  of  Sem- 
pronius,  too,  a most  confidential  friend  and 
counsellor  of  the  Emperor,  would  weigh  heavi- 
ly ; — while  there  was  nothing  but  his  own 
testimony  to  sustain  his  honor  against  the 
crowd  of  secret  enemies,  which  every  man  of 
military  rank  was  certain  to  have.  In  short,” 
said  he,  “ on  my  sleepless  couch,  I haveturn- 
ed  true  penitent  for  the  foolish  curiosity,  or 
boyish  desire,  of  mixing  myself  with  public 
'matters,  or  extravagant  illusion,  which 
prompted  me  to  volunteer,  nay,  solicit  the 
command  of  an  escort,  which  would  have 
been  by  right  put  under  the  care  of  some 
mere  tribune.” 

I tried  to  cheer  him,  by  saying  that  his 
had  been  only  the  natural  desire  of  an  active 
mind  to  see  so  singular  a scene  as  our  city 
offered ; or  the  honorable  wish  of  a soldier 
to  be  foremost  'wherever  there  was  any  thing 
to  be  done. 


Salathiel. 


“ It  was  more  than  either,”  said  he ; “ there 
was  actual  illusion  in  the  case.  I now  feel 
that  I was  practised  upon.  You  know  the 
trange  concourse  of  all  kinds  of  people  that 
How  a camp  for  all  kinds  of  purposes. — 
lunderers,  traders,  and  jugglers,  crowding 
our  movements,  as  regularly  as  the  crows, 
and  with  nearly  the  same  objects.  For  a week 
past,  I had  found  myself  beset  by  an  old,  gib- 
bering slave  of  this  class.  Wherever  I rode, 
the  fellow  was  before  my  eyes;  he  contrived 
to  mingle  with  my  servants,  and  became  a 
sort  of  favorite,  by  selling  them  counterfeit 
rings  and  gems  at  ten  times  their  value.  The 
wretch  was  clever  too;  and  as  my  tent  hours 
began  to  be  disturbed  by  the  uhusual  gaiety 
of  the  listeners  to  his  lies,  I ordered  him  to 
be  flogged  out  of  the  lines.  But  twelve  hours 
had  not  passed,  before  I found  him  gamboling 
again ; and  was  about  to  order  the  instant  in- 
fliction of  the  discipline,  when  he  threw  him- 
self on  the  ground,  and  implored  ‘ a moment 
of  my  secret  ear.’  Conceive  who  the  fellow 
was  7” 

“ The  impostor  that  harangued  in  the 
square !” 

“ The  very  man.  He  told  me  that  there 
were  certain  contrivances  on  foot,  to  bring 
me  into  disfavor  with  the  general;  which  1 
knew  to  be  the  fact.  He  gave  me  the  names 
of  the  parties,  which  I felt  to  be  sufficiently 
probable;  and  finished  by  saying,  that  having 
so  long  eaten  of  my  bread,  (a  week,)  and 
enjoyed  my  liberality,  (the  promise  of  the 
whip,)  he  longed  to  show  his  gratitude, 
by  giving  me  an  opportunity  of  putting 
my  enemies  to  silence  on  the  spot.  This 
opportunity  was,  to  solicit  the  command  of  the 
escort  required  for  the  mission.  How  he 
gained  his  wisdom,  I know  not;  but  I took 
the  advice,  went  instantly  to  Titus,  found  that 
an  armistice  was  being  debated  in  council, 
that  there  was  some  difficulty  in  the  choice  of 
an  officer  for  a service,  by  no  means  likely  to 
be  a sinecure  in  point  of  either  judgment  or 
hazard  ; stepped  forward,  and,  to  the  surprise 
of  every  body,  disclaimed  the  privileges  of  my 
rank,  and  insisted  on  marching  at  the  head  of 
this  handful,  this  centurion’s  guard,  into  the 
formidable  city  of  Jerusalem.” 

“ His  object  of  course  was  your  destruction. 
I now  see  the  cause  of  the  harangue  that 
roused  the  people ; he  was  in  the  pay  of  the 
conspirators  against  you.  Yet  his  appearance 
was  striking;  there  was  a vigor  about  his  look 
and  language,  a fierce  consciousness  of  power 
somewhere,  that  distinguished  him  from  his 
race.  He  came  too,  and  disappeared,  without 
my  being  able  to  discover  whence  or  wither.” 
“ O,  the  commonest  contrivance  of  his  trade. 
Those  fellows  always  come  and  g0  in  a cloud, 
if  they  can.  He  was  probably  beside  you 
half  the  day  before  and  after.  You  saw  how 


little  he  thought  of  the  lance  that  I sent  to 
bring  out  his  secrets.  He  doubtless  wore  a 
corslet.  Otherwise  there  would  have  been 
one  juggler  the  less  in  the  world.  The  truth 
is,  I have  been  duped,  but  I have  made  up  my 
mind  to  think  nothing  about  the  dupery.  The 
slave  is  certainly  clever,  perhaps  to  an  extra- 
ordinary degree — a knave  undoubtedly,  and 
of  the  first  magnitude.  But  he  has  the  secret 
of  the  cabal  against  me ; and  that  secret  makes 
him  at  once  fit  to  be  employed,  and  dangerous 
to  be  provoked.  The  blow  of  the  lance  yes- 
terday showed  him  that  I am  not  always  to  be 
trifled  with.  In  fact,  prince,  you  might  find  it 
advantageous  to  employ  him  occasionally 
yourself  It  was  he  who  conveyed  my  letter 
to  the  camp  this  morning!” 

My  look  probably  expressed  my  alarm  at 
this  species  of  envoy. 

“ You  may  rely  on  my  honor,”  said  the  Ro- 
man, “ not  to  involve  you  in  any  of  the  fellow’s 
inventions.  Slippery  as  he  is,  1 have  a hold 
on  him  too,  that  he  will  not  venture  to  shake 
off.  And  now,  to  let  you  into  full  confidence; 
I expect  him  back  this  very  night,  when  he 
will  relieve  your  city  of  an  inhabitant  unwor- 
thy of  remaining  among  so  polished  a people, 
and  your  house,  my  prince,  of  an  inmate,  than 
whom  none  on  earth  can  be  more  grateful  for 
your  hospitality.” 

He  concluded  this  mixture  of  levity,  address, 
and  frankness,  with  a smile,  and  in  a tone  of 
elegance,  that  compelled  me  to  take  it  all  on 
the  more  favorable  side.  But  against  suffer- 
ing the  step  of  his  strange  emissary  to  pol- 
lute the  threshold  in  which  I lived,  I expres- 
sed my  plain  determination. 

“ For  that  too,  I have  provided,”  said  he. 
“ My  intercourse  with  the  reprobate  is  to  take 
place  at  another  quarter  of  the  city,  as  far  as 
possible,”  and  he  laughed,  “for  reasons  equally 
of  mine  and  yours,  from  this  dwelling.  I have 
managed  matters  so  as  not  to  compromise  any 
of  my  friends ; and,  to  make  my  arrangements 
on  that  point  still  more  secure,  may  I express 
a wish  that  neither  Constantius  nor  any  other 
person  of  your  house  may  be  acquainted  with 
my  intention  of  leaving  them,  and,  I may  sin- 
cerely say,  leaving  every  thing  that  could 
gratify  my  best  feelings, — this  very  evening.” 

This  was  an  easy  and  graceful  avoidance 
of  the  difficulties  which  his  longer  residence 
threatened.  I gave  him  the  promise  of  se- 
crecy, cautioning  him  against  reposing  any 
dangerous  confidence  in  his  emissary,  of  whom 
I had  an  irrepressible  abhorrence ; and  was 
about  to  leave  the  chamber,  when  he  caught 
my  hand,  and  said,  in  unusual  emotion — 

“ Prince  of  Naphtali,  I have  but  one  more 
word  to  say.  You  are  a man  of  the  world, 
and  can  make  allowance  for  the  giddiness  of 
human  passions.  Some  of  them  are  uncon- 
trollable, or  at  least,  which  I have  never 


Salalhiel. 


learned  to  control ; and  in  me  perhaps  belong 
to  inferiority  of  mind.  But  if  on  my  depar- 
ture, you  should  hear  calumnies  against 
me — ” 

“ Impossible,  my  young  friend;  or  ifl  should, 
you  may  rely  on  my  giving  the  calumniators 
a very  brief  answer.” 

“ Or,  if  even  yourself  should  be  disposed  to 
think  severely  of  me ; — you  know  the  circum- 
stances under  which  a man  of  birth  and  for- 
tune must  be  placed,  in  our  profession.” 

“ f do;  and  am  much  more  disposed  to  re- 
gret, than  to  wonder  at  the  consequences.” 

“ If  you  should  hear  that  I had  been  as- 
sailed, in  an  evil  hour,  by  an  unexpected 
temptation,  which  I had  long  labored  to  re- 
sist; assailed  by  it  under  the  most  powerful 
circumstances  that  ever  yet  tasked  the  hu- 
man mind  ; circumstances  to  which,  from  the 
beginning  of  the  world,  wisdom  has  been  pro- 
verbially folly,  and  resolution  weakness ; if  it 
should  have  mastered  my  whole  being — spirit, 
soul,  and  body ; if  I were  willing  to  give  up 
the  brightest  prospects  for  its  possession — to 
hazard  life,  hope,  honors — ” 

The  thought  of  Esther  smote  me.  I started 
from  him,  where  he  stood,  with  his  fine  head 
drooping  like  the  Antinous,  and  his  figure 
the  very  emblem  of  passionate  dejection. 
“ Roman,  you  are  here  as  my  guest ; and  as 
such  I have  listened  to  you  with  patience, 
until  now.  But,  if  any  member  of  my  family 
is  concerned  in  what  you  say  ; I desire,  in 
the  most  distinct  terms,  that  the  subject  shall 
be  mentioned  no  more.  The  daughters  of 
Israel  are  sacred.  Never  shall  a child  of 
mine  wed  with  those  who  now  lord  it  over 
my  unhappy  country.” 

He  spread  his  hands  and  eyes  in  the  broad- 
est astonishment.  “ Prince,  can  it  be  possi- 
ble that  you  have  so  totally  mistaken  me! 
My  perplexities  are  of  an  entirely  different 
nature.  Do  me  justice;  I laugh  at  the  tri- 
flings of  human  passion,  as  unworthy  of  men 
of  common  sense.  And,  allowing,  as  every 
man  of  taste  must  allow,  the  beauty  of  the 
females  of  your  distinguished  house,  believe 
me,  that  I have  been  too  busy  with  matters 
of  painful  interest,  to  have  given  more  than  a 
glance  at  their  unquestionable  attractions. 
Now ; let  us  understand  each  other,  as  sol- 
diers and  men  of  honor.  The  chain  with 
which  I am  bound  is  not  of  roses,  but  of  iron  ; 
a chain  of  invisible,  yet  stern  influences,  that 
haunt  my  night,  and  even  my  day.  Right 
glad  should  I be,  to  find  myself  free  enough 
from  that  hideous  bond,  to  be  capable  of  ad- 
miring the  beauty  of  woman.”  His  voice 
faltered,  and  he  turned  away  with  a shudder, 
as  from  a visionary  tormentor. 

“ What ! has  that  accursed  dealer  in  spells, 
that  man  of  desperate  arts,  if  he  be  man,  in- 


volved you  too  in  his  net!  I know  the  super- 
stitions of  your  country  ; and  how  deeply  they 
darken  the  understanding.  But  dares  the 
imposter  soar  so  high  !” 

He  shook  from  head  to  foot;  and  clasped 
his  hands  with  the  violence  of  despair.  “You 
saw  how  he  defied,  how  he  mocked  at  me, 
how  he  spurned  me  when  my  abhorrence 
rose  to  the  madness  of  attempting  to  strike 
him.  I might  as  well  have  flung  the  wea- 
pon at  the  clouds.  You  saw  the  instinctive 
terror  of  my  charger.  That  animal  was 
celebrated  in  our  whole  cavalry  for  its  bold, 
nay,  furious,  spirit.  Yet,  before  the  eye  of 
that  man  of  power  and  evil,  it  cowered  like  a 
hare,  and  died  of  his  glance.  By  him  the 
temptation  has  been  offered ; of  its  nature  I 
dare  not  speak;  but  it  is  dazzling,  fearful, 
and  must,  I feel  it — must  finally  be  fatal.” 

“ Then  cast  it  from  you  at  once.  Be  a man 
— a hero.” 

“It  is  hopeless — I must  be  the  victim;  I 
am  bound  irretrievably.  Farewell,  prince; 
we  shall  see  each  other  no  more.” 

He  flung  himself  upon  the  couch.  I of- 
fered him  assistance,  advice,  consolation,  in 
vain.  The  spirit  of  the  soldier  was  ex- 
tinguished. The  victim  of  fantastic  illusion 
lay  before  me.  I left  him  to  the  care  of  the 
old  domestic ; and  when  I closed  the  door, 
thought  that  I had  closed  the  door  of  the 
grave. 

During  this  period  the  city  presented  the 
turbulent  aspect  that  must  result  from  the 
concourse  of  vast  and  warlike  multitudes, 
nearly  strangers  to  each  other,  or  known  on 
ly  by  hereditary  bickerings.  The  pride  of 
the  clansmen  of  Judah  looked  down  upot 
every  human  being,  and  his  countrymen 
among  the  rest.  The  Benjamite  retorted  it, 
boasted  of  the  inheritance  of  Jerusalem,  and 
looked  down  upon  the  men  of  the  Galilees  as 
rioters  and  plunderers.  These  too  had  their 
objects  of  scorn ; and  the  remnants  of  the 
tribes  of  Dan  and  Ephraim  were  held  in  mer- 
ciless disdain,  as  the  descendants  of  rebels 
and  idolaters.  To  deepen  those  ancient  feuds 
were  thrown  in  the  mutual  injuries  of  the 
factions  of  John  and  Simon.  Their  leaders 
were  now  but  the  shadow  of  what  they  had 
been  ; yet  the  memory  of  their  mischiefs  sur- 
vived with  a keenness  aggravated  by  the  pub- 
lic discovery  of  the  miserable  insignificance 
of  the  instruments. 

Power  and  genius  in  the  tyrant  offer  the 
consolation,  that  if  the  chain  have  galled  us, 
it  has  been  bound  by  a hand  made  for  supre- 
macy. The  last  misery  of  the  slave  is  to 
have  been  bound  by  a creature  even  more 
contemptible  than  himself;  to  have  given  to 
folly  the  homage  due  to  talent ; to  have 


Salat  hiel. 


W 


stooped  before  meanness,  and  trembled  under 
the  frown  of  the  feeble. 

The  obvions  losses  and  alarm  of  the  enemy, 
who  had  now  totally  withdrawn  from  the 
plain,  and  were  occupied  with  raising  rampart 
on  rampart  round  their  several  camps;  the 
triumph  over  the  unfortunate  troop ; and  the 
excitement  of  a crowd  of  diviners,  pretended 
prophets,  and  frantic  visionaries,  filled  the 
populace  with  every  vanity  of  conquest. — 
The  constant  exclamation  in  the  streets  was 
— “Let  us  march  to  storm  the  camps,  and 
drive  the  idolator  into  the  sea !”  But  the  new 
luxuries  of  the  city  were  too  congenial,  not 
to  act  as  formidable  rivals  to  the  popular  am- 
bition. No  leader  appeared  ; the  boastings 
passed  away  ; and  the  boiling  temperament  of 
the  warrior  had  time  to  run  into  the  safer 
channel  of  words  and  wine. 

Yet,  one  melancholy  remembrancer  was 
there.  Through  the  midst  of  the  wildest  fes- 
tivity, through  the  groups  of  drinking,  danc- 
ing, bravadoing,  and  quarreling,  Sabat  the 
lshmaelite  moved,  day  by  day,  from  dawn  till 
evening,  pouring  out  his  sentences  of  con- 
demnation. Nothing  could  be  more  singular, 
nor  more  awful,  than  his  figure;  as  the  de- 
nouncer of  ruin  hurried  along,  like  a being 
denuded  of  all  objects  in  life  but  the  one. — 
The  multitude,  in  their  most  extravagant  ex 
cess,  felt  undissembled  fear  before  him.  1 
have  seen  the  most  ferocious  tumult  stilled 
by  the  distant  sound  of  his  portentous  voice. 
The  dagger  was  instantly  sheathed,  the  head 
buried  in  the  garment;  the  form  often  pros- 
trate until  he  passed  by.  Where  he  went, 
the  song  of  license  was  dumb ; the  dance 
ceased;  the  cup  fell  from  the  hand,  and  many 
a lip  of  violence  and  blasphemy  quivered  with 
long-forgotten  prayer. 

How  he  sustained  life,  none  could  tell. — 
He  was  reduced  to  the  thinnest  anatomy;  his 
eye  had  the  yellow  glare  of  blindness;  his 
once  raven  hair  was  of  the  whiteness  of  flax. 
He  was  an  animated  corpse.  But  he  still  had 
the  stride  of  a giant;  he  drove  onward  with 
a force  which,  if  few  attempted  to  resist,  none 
seemed  able  to  withstand ; his  gestures  were 
rapid  and  nervous  in  an  extraordinary  degree, 
and  his  voice  was  overwhelming.  It  had  the 
rush  and  volume  of  a powerful  gust  of  wind. 
Even  in  the  hubbub  of  the  day,  through  the  in- 
numerable noises  of  the  streets,  it  was  audible 
from  the  remotest  quarters  of  the  city.  I have 
heard  it  through  the  tread  and  shouts  of  fifty 
thousand  marching  men.  But,  in  twilight  and 
silence,  the  eternal  “ Wo — wo — wo”  howled 
along  the  air  with  a sound  that  told  of  noth- 
ing human. 

His  unfortunate  bride  still  followed  him; 
never  uttering  a word,  never  looking  but  on 
him.  She  glided  along  with  him  in  his  swift- 
est course,  as  bound  by  a spell  to  wander 


where  he  wandered,  an  unconcious  slave ; 
her  form  almost  a shadow;  without  a sound, 
a gesture  or  a glance  ; her  feet  alone  moved. 

I often  attempted  to  render  this  undone 
pair  some  assistance.  Sabat  recognised  me, 
and  returned  brief  thanks ; and  perhaps  I was 
the  only  man  in  Jerusalem  to  whom  he  vouch- 
safed either  thanks  or  memory.  But  he  uni- 
formly refused  aid  of  every  kind,  and  re- 
proaching himself  for  the  moment  given  to 
human  recollections,  burst  away,  and  began 
his  denunciation  of  “ Wo — wo — wo !” 

The  hope  of  treaty  with  the  besiegers  was 
now  nearly  desperate ; yet  I felt  so  deeply  the 
ruin  that  must  follow  protracted  war,  that  I 
had  labored  with  incessant  anxiety  to  bring 
the  people  to  a sense  of  their  situation.  My 
name  was  high ; my  decided  refusal  of  all 
command  or  public  rank  gave  me  an  influence 
which  threw  more  grasping  ambition  into  the 
shade;  and  the  leading  men  of  Jerusalem 
were  glad  to  delegate  their  power  to  me,  with 
the  double  objectof  relieving  themselves  from 
an  effort  to  which  they  were  unequal,  and 
from  a responsibility  under  which  even  their 
covetousness  and  pride  had  begun  to  tremble. 

But  Jerusalem  was  not  to  be  saved  ; there 
was  an  opposing  fatality — an  irresistible,  in- 
tangible power,  arrayed  against  my  efforts. 
I felt  it  at  my  first  step.  If  I had  been  tread- 
ing on  the  vault  of  a volcano,  and  heard  it 
roar  under  me,  I could  not  have  been  made 
more  sensible  of  the  hollowness  and  hopeless- 
ness of  every  effort  to  save  the  nation.  In 
the  midst  of  our  most  according  council  some 
luckless  impediment  was  sure  to  start  up. — 
While  we  seemed  on  the  verge  of  conciliating 
and  securing  the  most  important  interests,  to 
that  verge  we  were  forbidden  to  approach. — 
Communications  actually  commenced  with 
the  Roman  general,  and  which  promised  the 
most  certain  results,  were  broken  offj  none 
could  tell  how.  There  was  an  antagonist 
somewhere,  but  beyond  our  grasp;  a hostility 
as  powerful,  as  constant,  and  as  little  capa- 
ble of  being  counteracted  as  the  hostility  of 
the  plague. 

After  my  final  conversation  with  Septimius, 
I had  spent  the  day  in  one  of  those  perplexing 
deliberations,  and  was  returning  with  a weary 
heart ; when,  in  an  obscure  street  leading  to 
the  Upper  City,  I was  roused  from  my  reve- 
rie by  the  sound  of  one  of  our  mountain  songs. 
Music  has  been  among  my  chief  solaces 
through  existence,  and  the  song  of  Naphtali 
at  that  moment  of  depression,  keenly  moved 
me.  I stopped  to  listen,  in  front  of  the  min- 
strel’s tent,  in  which  a circle  of  soldiers  and 
shepherds  from  the  Galilees  were  sitting  over 
their  cups.  His  skill  deserved  a higher  au- 
dience. He  touched  his  little  harp  with  ele- 


Salathiel. 


gance,  to  a voice  that  reminded  me  of  the 
sportiveness  and  wild  melody  of  a bird  in 
spring.  The  moon-light  shone  through  the 
tent ; and,  as  the  boy  sat  under  the  large 
white  folds  in  the  fantastic  dress  of  his  art,  a 
loose  vermillion  robe,  belted  with  sparkling 
stones,  and  turban  of  yellow  silk,  that  drooped 
upon  his  shoulder  like  a golden  pinion,  he  re- 
sembled the  Persian  pictures  of  the  Peri  em- 
bosomed in  the  bell  of  the  lily.  The  rude 
and  dark-featured  listeners  around  him  might 
well  have  sat  for  the  swart  demons  submissive 
to  his  will. 

But  thoughts  soon  returned  that  were  not 
to  be  soothed  by  music  ; and,  throwing  some 
pieces  of  money  to  the  boy,  1 hastened  on. — 
The  departure  of  the  young  Roman,  and  the 
influence  that  it  might  have  on  my  family, 
and  peculiarly  on  the  mind  of  a creature  dou- 
bly endeared  to  me  by  a strange  and  melan- 
choly similitude  to  the  temper  of  my  own  ex- 
citable mind,  deeply  occupied  me  ; and  it  was 
even  with  some  presentiment  of  evil  that  I 
reached  home. 

The  first  sound  that  I heard  was  the  lam- 
entation of  the  old  domestics.  But  J could 
not  wait  to  solve  their  unintelligible  attempts 
to  explain  the  disaster.  I flew  to  my  family. 
Miriam  was  absorbed  in  profound  sorrow ; 
Salome  was  in  loud  affliction.  Dreading  ev- 
ery thing  that  could  be  told  me,  yet  with  that 
sullen  hardihood  which  long  misfortune  gives, 
I took  my  wife’s  hands,  and,  in  a voice  strug- 
gling for  composure,  desired  her  to  tell  me 
the  worst  at  once. 

“ Esther  is  gone !”  was  her  answer.  She 
could  articulate  no  more;  the  effort  to  speak 
this  shook  her  whole  frame.  But  Salome 
broke  out  into  loud  reprobation  of  the  base- 
ness of  the  wretch  who  had  turned  our  hospi- 
tality into  a snare;  and  whose  life,  twice  saved, 
was  employed  only  to  bring  misery  on  his 
preserver. 

The  blow  fell  upon  me  with  the  keenness 
of  a sword.  “ Was  Esther,  was  my  daugh- 
ter, my  innocent,  darling  Esther,  consenting 
to  this  flight:” 

“ I know  not,”  said  Miriam.  “1  dare  not  ask 
myself  the  question.  Tf  she  can  have  forgotten 
her  duty,  to  follow  the  stranger;  if  she  can 
have  left  her  parents  ! — no ; it  must  have  been 
through  some  horrid  artifice.  But  the  thought 
is  too  bitter.  Raise  no  more  such  thoughts  in 
my  mind.” 

She  sank  in  silence.  But  Salome  was  not 
to  be  restrained.  She  asserted  the  total  im- 
possibility of  Esther’s  having  thrown  off  her 
allegiance  to  religion  and  filial  duty.  “ She 
must  have  been  either,”  said  this  generous 
and  enthusiastic  being,  “subjected  to  those 
dreadful  arts  in  which  the  idolators  deal,  and 
deluded  by  visions  and  evil  powers;  or  carried 
away  by  actual  force.  Constantius  has  gone 


already  in  search  of  her ; feeble  as  he  is,  he 
determined  to  discover  the  robbers;  and  though 
his  steps  were  tottering,  and  the  effort  may 
hazard  his  life,  he  would  not  be  restrained, 
nor  would  I restrain  him,  where  I should  have 
so  much  rejoiced  to  hazard  my  own.” 

I rose  to  depart.  Miriam  clung  to  me. — 
“Must  I lose  all,  Salathiel?” 

“ I am  the  guilty  one,  wife  ! I should  have 
guarded  against  this.  I alone  am  to  blame. 
Those  tears  reproach  me  more  deeply  than  all 
the  words  in  the  world.  I will  recover  Esther. 
Without  her  we  all  should  be  miserable.  The 
Roman  General  is  just.  I will  demand  her 
of  Septimius  in  his  presence.  Miriam  ! you 
shall  see  your  child.  Salome  ! you  shall  see 
your  sister.  And  now,  come  to  rny  heart — 
come  both ; my  last  hope  of  happiness,  the 
remnant  of  all  that  once  promised  to  fill  my 
declining  days  with  peace  and  prosperity. — 
Weep  no  more;  Miriam!  Salome!  I must 
not  be  unmanned  at  this  time  of  trial.  Go  to 
your  chambers,  and  pray  for  me. — Farewell !” 

It  was  nearly  midnight,  and  the  city  sounds 
were  hushed,  except  where  the  crowds,  which 
still  poured  in,  struggledfor  their  quarters. — 
The  very  fear  of  being  thus  disturbed  kept 
up  the  disturbance  of  the  population;  and  in 
the  leading  avenues  the  tents  showed  fierce 
watchers  against  this  violence,  sitting  round 
their  tables,  until  wine  either  sent  them  to 
sleep,  or  roused  them  into  daggers-drawing. 
Subordination  was  at  an  end  ; plunder  and 
blood  were  to  be  dreaded  by  every  man  who 
ventured  among  those  champions  of  freedom 
and  property;  and  more  than  once  this  night 
I was  compelled  to  show  that  I wore  a wea- 
pon. 

But  the  disorder  which  left  the  city  a seat 
of  dissolute  riot  was  not  suffered  to  interfere 
with  the  actual  defence.  That  singular  mix- 
ture of  rabble  giddiness  and  sacred  care, 
which  distinguished  my  countrymen  above  all 
nations,  was  fully  displayed  in  those  final 
hours;  and  the  walls  that  inclosed  a million 
of  rioters  and  robbers,  were  guarded  with 
the  solemn  vigilance  of  a sanctuary. 

No  argument  could  prevail  with  the  pea- 
santry at  the  gate  to  let  me  pass.  My  rank, 
and  even  my  public  name,  went  for  little  in 
the  scale,  against  the  possibility  of  my  renew- 
ing the  treaty  with  an  enemy  whom  they  now 
scorned;  and  I was  doubting  whether  I must 
not  lose  the  night  by  the  reluctance  of  those 
rough  but  honest  sentinels,  when  I was 
cheered  by  seeing  one  of  the  head-men  of 
their  tribe  arrive.  He  had  been  a furious  poli- 
tician ; honor  and  honesty  were  his  declared 
worship,  and  his  horror  of  humbler  motives 
was  fierceness  itself.  This  was  enough  for 
me.  I knew  what  public  vehemence  means. 
I took  him  aside  ; without  ceremony  put  gold 
into  his  grasp ; and  saw  the  gate  thrown  open 


Salat  hiel. 


161 


before  me  by  the  immaculate  hand  of  the  pa- 
triotic Jonathan. 

But  while  I had  scarcely  congratulated 
myself  on  having  passed  this  formidable  bar- 
rier, and  was  still  within  the  defences,  the 
trampling  of  horse  echoed  on  the  road.  The 
night  was  clear,  and  there  was  no  hope  of 
avoiding  them,  inclosed  as  I was  with  walls. 
A large  body  of  Idumean  horsemen  came  on, 
escorting  wagons  of  provision.  The  foremost 
riders  were  half  asleep,  and  I was  in  strong 
hope  of  eluding  them  all,  when  one  of  the 
drivers,  in  the  wantonness  of  authority,  laid 
his  whip  on  me.  I rashly  returned  the  blow, 
and  the  man  fell  off  his  horse  insensible.  I 
was  surrounded,  charged  with  murder  ; was 
brought  before  their  chieftain,  and  found  that 
chieftain  Onias ! 

My  old  enemy  recognized  me  instantly; 
and,  with  undying  revenge  firing  every  fea- 
ture, demanded  whither  I was  going. 

“ To  the  Roman  camp,”  was  the  direct  an- 
swer. 

“ The  purpose  1” 

“ To  have  an  interview  with  the  Roman 
general.” 

“ You  come  deputed  by  the  authorities  1” 

“ By  not  one  of  them.” 

“ I long  ago  knew  you  to  be  a bold  fellow, 
but  you  exceed  my  opinion.  We  cannot 
spare  heroes  from  Jerusalem  at  this  time;  so, 
you  must  turn  back  with  us.” 

“By  what  right  1” 

“ By  the  right  of  the  stronger.” 

“ With  what  object!” 

“That  you  may  be  hung  as  a deserter.  It 
will  save  you  the  trouble  of  going  to  Titus 
to  be  hanged  as  a spy.” 

I disdained  reply;  and  in  the  midst  of  a 
circle  of  barbarians  exulting  over  their  cap- 
tive, as  if  they  had  taken  the  chief  enemy  of 
the  state,  was  inarched  back  to  the  walls. 

There  I was  not  the  only  person  disturbed 
by  the  adventure.  The  first  glimpse  of  me 
caught  by  the  captain  of  the  night,  exhibited 
everything  that  could  be  ludicrous  in  the 
shape  of  consternation.  To  the  inquiries, 
how  I was  suffered  to  pass,  he  answered  by 
an  appeal  to  his  “ honor  which  he  again 
valued,  in  my  presence  too,  “ as  the  most  in- 
valuable possession  of  the  citizen  soldier.” 
He  said  the  words  without  a blush,  and  I 
even  listened  to  them  without  a smile.  He 
probably  trembled  a little  for  his  bribe.  But 
he  soon  discovered  by  my  look  that  I con- 
sidered the  money  as  too  far  gone  to  be  worth 
pursuing. 

Yet  Onias,  who  seemed  to  know  him  as 
well  as  1,  fixed  on  him  a scrutinizing  aspect, 
of  all  others  the  most  hateful  to  a delicate 
conscience;  and  his  only  resource  was  to 
heap  opprobium  upon  me.  How  I had  con- 
trived to  escape  the  guard,  said  Jonathan, 


“ was  totally  inconceivable,  unless  it  was  by 
— ” I gave  him  an  assuring  glance — “ by 
imposing  on  the  credulity  of  some  of  the  ig- 
norant peasants;  possibly  even  by  direct  cor- 
ruption. But,  to  put  that  matter  out  of  fu- 
ture possibility,  he  would  proceed  to  examine 
the  prisoner’s  person.” 

He  proceeded  accordingly,  and  from  my 
sash  took  my  purse,  as  a public  precaution. 
He  was  a vigilant  guardian  of  the  state;  for 
the  purse  was  never  restored. 

Onias  looked  at  him,  during  his  harangue, 
with  a countenance  between  contempt  and 
ridicule. 

“ I must  go  forward  now,”  said  he  ; “ but, 
captain,  see  to  your  prisoner.  He  must  an- 
swer before  the  council  to-morrow ; and  as 
you  have  so  worthily  disabled  him  from  op- 
erations with  the  guard,  your  own  head  is 
answerable  for  his  safe-keeping.”  My  ene- 
;my,  to  make  all  sure,  himself  saw  me  march- 
jed  within  the  tower  over  the  gate;  comfort- 
ed his  soul  by  a parting  promise  that  my  time 
was  come,  and  rode  off  with  his  Idumeans — 
to  the  boundless  satisfaction  of  the  scrupulous 
and  much  alarmed  Jonathan. 

| The  tower  was  massive ; arid  there  was 
no  probability  that  anything  less  than  a Ro- 
man battering-ram  would  ever  lay  open  its 
solid  sides.  The  captain  had  recovered  his 
virtue  at  the  instant  of  my  losing  my  purse ; 
and  I now  could  no  more  dream  of  sapping 
his  integrity,  than  of  sapping  the  huge  blocks 
of  the  tower.  Whether  I was  to  be  jirisoner 
for  the  night  or  for  the  siege,  or  to  glut  the 
axe  by  morning,  were  questions  which  lay  in 
the  bosom  of  as  implacable  a villain,  as  long- 
delayed  revenge  ever  made  malignant : but 
what  was  to  become  of  my  child,  of  my  fam- 
ily, of  my  share  in  the  great  cause,  for  which 
alone  life  was  of  value  ! 

The  chamber  to  which  I was  consigned  was 
at  the  top  of  the  tower,  and  overlooked  a vast 
I extent  of  country.  Before  me  were  the  Ro- 
man camps  seen  clearly  in  the  moonlight,  and 
wrapt  in  silence,  except  when  the  solitary 
trumpet  sounded  the  watch,  or  the  heavy  tread 
of  a troop  going  its  rounds,  was  heard.  The 
city  sounds  were  but  the  murmurs  of  the  sink- 
ing tide  of  the  multitude.  The  Spring  was 
in  her  glory.  The  air  came  fresh  and  sweet 
from  the  fields.  All  was  tranquillity  ; yet  what 
a mass  of  destructive  power  was  lying  mo- 
tionless under  that  tranquillity!  Fire,  sword, 
and  man,  were  before  me;  elements  of  evil  that 
a touch  could  rouse  into  tempest,  not  to  be  al- 
layed but  by  torrents  of  blood,  and  the  ruin  or 
empires. 


CHAPTER  XLVI1I. 

While  my  mind  was  wandering  away  in 
i thoughts  of  the  madness  of  ambition  in  so  brief 


162 


Salathiel. 


a being  as  man,  I heard  a loud  clamor  of 
voices  in  the  chambers  below.  The  rustic 
guard  had  been  enjoying  themselves;  but 
their  wine  was  already  out,  and  they  set  their 
faces  boldly  against  the  discipline  which  pre- 
tended to  limit  the  wine  of  patriots  so  true 
and  thirsty.  The  clamor  arose  from  the  dis- 
covery that  the  cellars  of  the  tower  had  been 
examined  by  a previous  guard,  who  provided 
for  the  temperance  of  their  successors  by  tak- 
ing the  whole  temptation  to  themselves. 
High  words  followed  between  the  abettors  of 
discipline  and  the  partisans  of  the  bottle;  and 
if  my  door  were  but  unbarred,  I might  have 
expeditiously  relieved  the  captain  of  his 
charge.  But  its  bolts  were  enormous,  and  I 
tried  lock  and  panel  in  vain. 

As  1 was  giving  up  the  effort,  a light  foot- 
step ascended  the  stairs ; a key  turned  in  the 
ponderous  wards,  and  the  minstrel  of  the  tent 
stood  before  me. 

“ If  you  wish  to  escape  from  certain  death,” 
he  whispered,  “do  as  I bid  you.”  ■ He  looked 
from  the  casement,  sang  a few  notes,  and,  on 
being  answered  from  without,  pulled  up  a 
rope,  which  we  hauled  in  together.  The 
task  was  of  some  difficulty,  but  at  length  a 
weighty  hamper  appeared,  loaded  with  wine. 
He  took  a portion  of  the  contraband  freight 
in  his  arms,  and  without  a word  disappeared. 
I heard  his  welcome  proclaimed  below  with 
loud  applause.  Half  the  guard  were  instant- 
ly on  the  stairs  to  assist  him  down  with  the 
remainder ; but  against  this  he  firmly  pro- 
tested, and  threatened,  in  case  of  a single  at- 
tempt to  interfere  with  his  operations,  that 
he  would  awake  the  captain,  and  publicly 
give  back  the  keys  of  this  incomparable  pri- 
vate cellar  to  the  legitimate  hand.  The 
threat  was  effective ; the  unlading  of  the 
hamper  was  left  to  his  own  dexterity;  and 
at  length  but  one  solitary  flask  lay  before 
us. 

“You  deserve  some  payment  for  your  trou- 
ble,” said  he,  with  the  careless  and  jovial  air 
of  his  brethren.  “ Here’s  to  your  night’s  en- 
terprise, whatever  it  be,”  pouring  out  a few 
drops  and  tasting  them,  while  he  forced  a 
large  draught  upon  me.  “ And  now  good 
night,  my  prince,  unless  you  love  the  tower 
too  much  to  take  leave  of  this  gallant  guard 
by  a window.” 

“ But,  boy,  if  you  are  detected  in  assisting 
my  escape  !” 

“ Oh  ! I have  been  detected  in  all  sorts  of 
frolics  in  my  time,  and  yet  here  I am.  The 
truth  is,  prince,  I have  travelled  in  your  coun- 
try, and  have  an  old  honor  for  your  name. 
No  later  than  to-day  you  gave  me  the  hand- 
somest present  I have  got  since  I came  with- 
in the  walls.  I know  the  noble  captain  below 
stairs  to  be  a thorough  rogue ; and  the  mighty 
Onias  to  want  nothing  for  wickedness  but  the 


opportunity : in  short,  the  thought  occurred 
to  me  on  seeing  you,  to  ramble  into  the 
guard-house,  help  the  honest  revelers  below 
to  a little  more  wine  than  is  good  for  their 
understandings;  this  contraband  affair  being 
a commodity  in  w'hich,  between  ourselves,  I 
deal ; and  farther,  break  the  laws  by  assist- 
ing you  to  leave  captain,  sentinels,  persecu- 
tor, and  all,  behind.  Now,  if  you  value  your 
life,  be  the  substitute  for  the  empty  flasks  ; 
get  into  this  hamper,  and  make  your  way 
through  the  air  like  a bird.  In  two  minutes 
I shall  be  safe  enough.  You  need  have  no 
fears  for  me.” 

I coiled  the  rope  round  a beam,  that  my 
weight  might  not  bring  it  down  too  sudden- 
ly ; forced  myself  through  the  narrow  win- 
dow, and  launched  out  into  the  air,  at  the 
height  of  a hundred  feet.  But  if  I felt  any 
distrust,  it  was  brief.  I was  rapidly  lowered 
down,  passing  the  successive  casements,  in 
which  1 saw  the  successive  watches  of  the 
guard  drinking,  sleeping,  singing,  and  dis- 
cussing public  affairs  with  village  rationality. 
Luckily  no  eye  turned  upon  the  fugitive,  and 
the  ground  was  touched  at  last. 

In  another  moment  the  minstrel  came, 
rather  flying  than  sliding  down  the  rope.  I 
said  something  in  acknowledgment  of  this 
service.  But  he  laid  his  finger  on  his  lip, 
and  pointing  to  the  rampart,  where  a moving 
lamp  showed  that  we  were  still  within  obser- 
vation, led  me  through  paths  beset  with 
thickets  which  no  eye  could  penetrate,  but, 
as  he  said,  “that  of  a supplier  of  garrisons 
with  contraband.”  But  their  intricacy  offer- 
ed no  obstruction  to  this  stripling ; and  after 
amusing  himself  with  my  perplexities,  he  led 
me  to  the  verge  of  the  plain. 

“I  have  detained  you,”  said  he,  “ in  these 
brambles,  for  the  double  purpose  of  avoiding 
the  look-out  from  the  battlements,  and  of 
giving  the  moon  time  to  hide  her  blushing 
beauties.”  She  lay  reddening  with  the  mists 
on  the  horizon.  “ She  has  been  often  called 
our  mother ; and,  as  children  of  the  moon, 
the  minstrels  are  allowed  the  privilege  of 
keeping  later  hours,  and  being  madder  than 
the  mob  of  mankind.  But,  like  other  chil- 
dren, we  are  sometimes  engaged  in  matters 
which  would  dispense  with  the  maternal  eye; 
and  to-night,  between  assisting  the  Galileans 
to  their  wine,  and  cheating  them  of  their 
prisoner,  I wished  that  she  was  many  a fath- 
om below1  the  ocean.  Mother,”  said  he, 
throwing  himself  into  an  attitude,  and  pour- 
ing a gush  of  harmony  from  his  little  harp, 
“ take  a child’s  blessing,  and  begone.”  The 
words  w’ere  spoken  to  a kind  of  tune,  ramb- 
ling, but  singularly  sweet.  “ Do  you  know,” 
said  he,  with  a sigh,  as  he  turned  and  saw 
me  gazing  in  admiration  of  his  skill,  “ I am 
weary  to  death  of  my  profession.” 


Salathiel. 


163 


“ Then  why  not  leave  it  1 you  are  tit  for 
better  things  ; your  accomplishments  are  of 
the  very  nature  that  make  their  way  into  so- 
ciety.” 

“ Why  not  leave  it  1 Oh  ; for  a hundred 
reasons.  In  the  first  place,  I should  be  more 
wearied  of  every  other.  I should  be  the  bird 
in  the  cage,  fed,  sheltered,  and  possibly  a 
favorite.  But  what  bird  would  not  rather 
take  the  chance  of  the  open  air,  even  to  be 
beat  by  the  storms  of  summer,  and  frozen  by 
the  winter’s  chill ! No ; let  me  clap  my 
pinions,  and  sing  my  song  under  the  free 
canopy  of  the  skies ; or  be  voiceless,  and 
wingless,  and — dead.” 

“ Boy,  this  is  the  natural  language  of  your 
years.  But  the  time  must  come  when  the 
spirit  sinks,  and  man  requires  other  charms 
in  life  than  the  power  of  roaming.  The  com- 
mon change  of  nature  which  compels  us  in 
the  days  of  sunshine  to  provide  for  winter,  is 
only  a forewarning  of  the  time  when  life 
shall  require  rest,  an  assured  shelter,  and  the 
presence  of  human  beings  who  feel  an  inter- 
est in  us.  The  wanderer  comes,  at  last,  a 
broken-hearted  dependant,  to  solicit  the  alms 
of  men  who,  without  a spark  of  his  genius, 
had  the  common  sense  to  follow  the  track 
beaten  for  them  by  mankind.” 

He  made  no  answer,  but  hung  his  head 
over  the  harp,  and  let  his  fingers  stray  among 
the  strings.  The  moon’s  edge  was  now  touch- 
ing the  mountains. 

“ We  must  be  gone,”  said  I;  “but,  as  I 
insist  on  your  not  exposing  yourself  to  farther 
hazard,  remember  to  look  for  me  within  a 
few  days  in  Jerusalem.  I owe  you  something 
for  your  night’s  service;  which,  if  you  are 
willing,  shall  be  repaid  by  taking  you  into 
my  household,  should  the  siege  be  raised ; if 
not,  you  are  but  as  you  were.” 

He  was  all  nervous  perturbation  at  the  of- 
fer ; wept,  laughed,  danced,  rang  a prelude 
upon  the  strings,  kissed  my  hand,  and  finally 
bounded  away  before  me.  I called  to  him, 
repeating  my  wish  that  he  should  go  no  far- 
ther. 

“ Impossible,”  said  he;  “you  would  be  lost 
in  a moment.  If  I had  not  crossed  the  ground 
hundreds  of  times,  I should  never  be  able  to 
find  my  road.  Half  a mile  forward,  it  is  all 
rampart,  trench  und  ravine.  You  would  be 
stopped  by  a host  of  sentinels.  Why, 
nothing  on  earth  could  get  to  the  foot  of  yon- 
der hills,  near  as  they  seem,  but  an  army, — 
or  a minstrel.” 

Remonstrance  was  hopeless,  for  he  ran  on 
before  me,  and  ran  with  a rapidity  that  task- 
ed even  my  foot  to  follow.  We  soon  came 
into  the  fortified  ground,  and  I then  felt  his 
value.  He  led  me  over  fosse  and  rampart, 
up  the  scarp  and  through  the  palisade,  with 
the  sagacity  of  instinct.  But  this  was  not 


all.  I repeatedly  saw  the  sentinels  within  a 
few  feet  of  us,  and  expected  to  be  challenged 
every  moment;  but  not  a syllable  was  heard  : 
i I passed,  with  patrols  of  the  legionary  horse 
on  either  side  of  me ; still,  not  a word.  I 
walked  through  the  rows  of  tents  in  which  the 
troops  were  up,  and  preparing  for  the  duties 
of  the  morning.  Not  an  eye  fell  upon  me; 
and  I almost  began  to  believe  myself,  like  a 
hero  of  the  old  tables,  covered  with  a cloud. 

The  boy  still  continued  racing  along;  until, 
on  reaching  the  summit  of  a mound  at  some 
distance  in  front  of  me,  he  uttered  a cry,  and 
fell.  I had  heard  no  challenge ; and,  con- 
ceiving that  his  fall  was  accidental,  hurried 
towards  him. 

A flight  of  arrows  whizzed  over  my  head ; 
and  the  black  visages  of  a mob  of  Ethiopian 
riders  came  bouncing  up  a hollow  beside  me. 
It  was  not  my  purpose  to  fight,  even  if  I had 
any  hope  of  success  against  marksmen  who 
could  hit  an  elephant’s  eye.  I called  out  for 
quarter  in  every  language  of  which  I was 
capable.  But  the  Ethiopians  only  shook  their 
woolly  heads,  laid  hands  on  me,  and  began 
an  investigation  of  my  riches,  creditable  to 
polished  society.  Barbarians,  with  a tongue 
and  physiognomy  worthy  only  of  their  kin- 
dred baboons,  probed  every  plait  of  my  gar- 
ments, with  an  accuracy  that  could  have  been 
surpassed  only  in  the  most  civilized  custom- 
houses of  the  empire.  A succession  of  shrieks, 
which  I mistook  for  rage,  but  which  were 
the  mirth  of  those  sons  of  darkness,  were  the 
prelude  to  measures  which  argued  more  for- 
midable consequences  than  the  rifling  of  a 
man  who  had  already  undergone  rifling  by  a 
professor.  A rope  was  thrown  over  my  arms, 
and  1 was  led  towards  the  outposts.  Yet  even 
the  neighborhood  of  their  Roman  friends  did 
not  seem  the  most  congenial  to  my  captors. 
More  than  one  consultation  was  held,  in 
which  their  white  teeth  were  bared  to  the 
jaw  with  rage,  and  their  scimetars  were 
whirled  like  so  many  flashes  of  lightning 
about  each  others  turbans,  before  they  could 
decide,  whether  my  throat  was  to  be  cut  on 
the  spot  to  get  rid  of  an  encumbrance,  or 
they  were  to  try  how  far  the  emptiness  of  my 
purse  might  not  be  made  up  to  them  by  the 
reward  for  the  capture  of  a spy  in  the  trap- 
pings of  a chieftain. 

I gave  up  remonstrance,  where,  if  I had 
all  the  tongues  of  Babal,  none  of  them  seem- 
ed likely  to  answer  my  purpose  ; and,  reserv- 
ing the  nice  distinction  between  an  ambassa- 
dor and  a spy  for  more  cultivated  ears,  quiet- 
ly walked  onward,  in  the  midst  of  this  ragged 
troop  of  thieves  ; the  more  insensible  to  hon- 
esty or  argument,  as  they  were  thieves  priv- 
ileged according  to  law. 

But  our  approach  to  the  camp  bred  another 
difficulty.  The  troop  felt  an  obvious  disin- 


164 


Salaihiel. 


clination  to  come  too  close  to  the  legionaries. 
Whatever  was  the  produce  of  their  rovings, 
might  be  inquired  into,  and  retained  for  the 
honor  of  justice  and  the  benefit  of  its  servants. 
Untutored  as  the  negroes  were,  they  had  ac- 
quired a knowledge  of  the  latitude  of  the  of- 
ficial conscience ; and  bowed  to  the  mastery 
of  the  white  in  plunder,  as  in  the  other  ac- 
complishments of  an  advanced  age. 

All  could  not  venture  to  the  camp ; yet 
who  was  to  be  intrusted  with  the  general  in- 
terest, so  far  as  receiving  the  reward  1 The 
discussion  was  carried  on  chiefly  by  gesture, 
which  sometimes  proceeded  to  blows ; and 
at  last  was  wound  up  to  such  vigor,  that  a 
brawny  ruffian,  to  preserve  the  peace,  seized 
the  rope,  and  dragging  me  out  of  the  circle, 
began  sharpening  his  scimetar  on  his  knife, 
to  cut  my  throat  with  the  more  certainty, 
and  at  once  extinguish  the  controversy.  But, 
at  the  instant,  a horrid  outcry  arose ; and  a 
figure,  hideous  beyond  conception,  not  a foot 
high,  blacker  than  the  blackest,  and  darting 
flames  from  its  mouth,  bounded  in  among  us, 
mounted  upon  a wild  beast  of  a horse,  that 
kicked  and  tore  at  every  thing.  The  Ethio- 
pians shrieked  with  terror,  and  were  scattered 
on  all  sides  at  the  first  shock ; the  ground 
was  so  cut  up  by  the  military  operations,  that 
they  stumbled  at  every  step  ; some  were  un- 
horsed ; some  lay  desperately  kicked  and  bit- 
ten ; some  probably  had  their  necks  broken ; 
and  others  carried  home  the  tale  to  spread  it 
through  the  land  of  lions.  I heard  it  long 
after,  exciting  the  utmost  amaze  in  a venera- 
ble circle  sitting  round  one  of  the  fountains 
of  the  Nile. 

I was  saved  from  being  thus  summarily 
made  the  victim  of  peace  ; but  was  as  far  as 
ever  from  freedom.  While  I was  endeav- 
oring to  loose  the  rope,  a patrol  of  the  legion- 
ary horse  came  galloping  from  the  camp ; 
and  I was  taken,  with  this  badge  of  a bad  char- 
acter upon  me.  But  the  flying  negroes  were 
the  more  amusing  object.  There  was  just 
light  enough  to  see  them  running  and  rolling 
about  the  plain  ; turbans  flying  off  in  the  air ; 
and  the  few  riders  who  could  boast  of  keep- 
ing their  seats,  whirled  away  over  brake  and 
brier,  at  the  mercy  of  their  maddened  horses. 
This  display,  which  had  been,  at  first,  taken 
for  the  prelude  to  an  assault  on  the  lines, 
was  now  a source  of  pleasantry ; and  the 
horsemanship  of  the  savages  was  honored 
with  many  a roar. 

My  case  came  next  under  consideration. 
“ I was  found  at  the  edge  of  the  Roman  in- 
trenchments,  where  to  be  found  was  to  die ; 
I was  besides  taken  with  the  mark  of  repro- 
bation upon  me.”  But  I pleaded  my  own 
merits  loudly,  and  appealed  to  the  rope  as 
evidence  that  I was  not  there  by  my  own  will. 
The  legionaries  were  better  soldiers  than  lo- 


gicians, and  my  defense  perplexed  them: 
until  some  profounder  one  thought  of  inquir- 
ing what  brought  me  there  at  all.  The 
troop  flocked  round  to  hear  how  I should  re- 
but this  overwhelming  question.  I mention- 
ed my  purpose  in  a few  words. 

The  scale  again  turned  in  my  favor,  and 
I began  to  think  victory  secure;  when  a 
young  standard-bearer,  who  was  probably 
destined  to  rise  in  the  state,  declared,  with  a 
splenetic  tongue  and  brow  of  office,  that,  “ in 
this  day  of  cheating,  too  much  precaution 
could  not  be  adopted  against  cheats  of  all 
colors ; that  the  more  plausible  my  story  was, 
the  more  likely  it  was  to  be  a fabrication  ; 
that  I might  have  volunteered  my  captivity 
only  to  give  weight  to  my  fabrication;  and 
that,  finally,  as  my  escape  might  do  some 
kind  of  mischief,  while  my  hanging  could 
do  none  whatever,  it  was  advisable — to  hang 
me  without  delay.” 

The  orator  spoke  the  words  of  popularity  ; 
and  my  fate  was  sealed.  But  anew  difficulty 
arose.  By  whom  was  the  sentence  to  be  put 
in  execution;  for  the  duty  would  have  sullied 
the  legionary  honor  for  life.  The  demur  was 
perplexing;  but  the  dignity  of  the  cavalry 
must  at  all  events  be  preserved.  A trampled 
African,  who  lay  groaning  in  a ditch  beside 
me,  caught  the  sound  of  the  debate,  dragged 
himself  out,  and  offered,  mangled  as  he  was, 
to  perform  the  office  for  any  sum  that  their 
generosity  might  think  proper.  Never  was 
rnan  nearer  paying  the  grand  debt,  than  I 
was  at  that  moment.  The  African  recovered 
his  vigor  as  by  magic  ; and  the  young  states- 
man took  upon  himself  the  superintendance 
of  this  service  to  his  country.  I was  not  idle, 
and  raised  my  voice  against  this  violence  to 
a “ negotiator ;”  but  the  troopers  of  the  im- 
perial horse  had  been  roused  from  their  sleep 
on  my  account,  and  they  were  not  to  return, 
liable  to  the  ridicule  of  having  been  roused 
by  a false  alarm.  While  I still  endeavored  to 
put  off  the  evil  hour,  the  trampling  of  a large 
body  of  cavalry  was  heard.  “ The  General,” 
exclaimed  the  young  officer,  who  evidently 
had  an  instinctive  sensibility  to  the  approach 
of  rank. 

“ Let  Titus  come,”  said  I,  “ or  any  man 
of  honor,  and  lie  will  understand  me.”  1 
tore  the  badge  of  disgrace  from  my  arms,  and 
stepped  forward  to  meet  the  great  son  of 
Vespasian.  My  look  of  confidence  alarmed 
the  troop,  and  the  standard-bearer  made  way 
for  a man  who  dared  to  speak  to  the  heir  of 
the  throne.  But  the  general  was  not  Titus ; 
a broad,  brutal  countenance,  red  with  excess, 
glared  haughtily  round.  I caught-  his  eye, 
and  he  suddenly  turned  pale:  a whisper  from 
one  of  the  officers  put  him  in  possession  of 
the  circumstances,  and  he  rode  up  to  me. 
“ So,  rebel ! you  are  come  to  this  at  last 


Salathiel. 


165 


You  have  been  taken  in  the  fact,  and  must 
undergo  your  natural  fate.” 

“ I demand  to  be  led  to  your  general.  I 
scorn  to  defend  myself  before  inferiors.” 

“ Inferiors !”  he  bit  his  livid  lip.  “ Trai- 
tor, you  are  not  now  on  the  hill  of  Scopas,  at 
the  head  of  an  army.” 

I recognized  Cestius.  “ Nor  you,”  said  I, 
“ on  the  plain,  at  the  head  of  an  army  ; and 
so  much  the  more  fortunate  for  both  you  and 
them.  But,  I scorn  to  talk  to  men  whose 
backs  I have  seen.  Lead  me  to  your  master, 
fugitive !” 

The  troops,  unaccustomed  to  this  plain 
speaking  in  the  presence  of  the  tyrant  of  the 
legions,  looked  on  with  wonder.  Cestius 
himself  was  staggered ; but  the  nature  of  the 
man  soon  returned ; and  in  a voice  of  fury, 
he  ordered  a body  of  Arab  archers,  who  were 
seen  moving  at  a distance,  to  be  brought  up 
for  the  extinction  of  a “ traitor  unworthy  of  a 
Roman  sword.” 

The  Arabs,  exhilarated  at  the  prospect  of 
reward,  came  up  shouting,  tossing  their 
lances,  and  shooting  their  arrows.  As  a last 
resource,  I solemnly  protested  against  this 
murder,  which  I pronounced  to  be  the  work 
of  a revenge  disgraceful  to  the  name  of  sol- 
dier; and,  taunting  Cestius  with  his  defeat, 
demanded  that,  if  he  doubted  my  honor,  he 
should  try,  on  the  spot,  which  of  our  swords 
was  the  better. 

He  answered  my  taunt  only  by  a glare  of 
rage,  and  a gesture  to  the  archers,  who  in- 
stantly threw  themselves  into  a half  circle 
round  me,  with  the  expertness  of  proficients 
in  the  trade  of  justice,  and  bended  their  bows. 
I was  determined  to  resist  to  the  last ; and 
flung  out  upbraidings  and  scorn  upon  the 
murderer,  which  drove  him  to  hide  his  head 
behind  the  troop  ; when  another  disturbance 
arose.  Scimetars  waved,  turbans  shook, 
horses  plunged  ; the  deep  order  was  broken  ; 
and  at  length  a horseman,  magnificently  ap- 
pareled, and  mounted,  burst  into  the  ring, 
and  rushed  fiercely  round. 

“ What ! you  miscreants,”  he  shouted, 
“ what  in  the  name  of  Beelzebub  is  all  this  for  1 
who  dares  to  take  the  command  out  of  my 
hands'!  down  with  your  bows.  Commit  mur- 
der ; and  I not  present ! The  first  man  that 
pulls  a string  shall  have  an  empty  saddle. 
Draw  off,  cut-throats  ; or,  if  you  want  to  do 
the  world  a service  shoot  one  another.” 

I gazed  in  vain  on  this  figure  of  cloth,  gold 
and  purple.  The  turban  tllat  blazing  with 
gems  hung  down  on  his  forehead,  and  the  beard 
that  black  as  the  raven’s  wing  curled  full 
round  his  lip,  completely  baffled  me.  He 
looked  at  me  in  turn,  thrust  out  a sinewy 
hand,  and  clasping  mine,  exclaimed  with  a 
loud  laugh — 

“ What,  prince,  does  the  plumage  make 


you  forget  the  bird  ! What  can  have  brought 
you  into  the  hands  of  my  culprits  ! I thought 
that  you  were  drowned,  burned,  or  a candidate 
for  the  imperial  diadem,  by  this  time.” 

The  voice  and  manner  recurred  to  me. 
“ My  friend  of  the  free  trade  !”  said  I. 

“ By  no  means.  But  a loyal  plunderer — 
in  the  service  of  Vespasian,  and  in  command 
of  a thousand  Arab  cavalry,  that  will  ride, 
run  away,  and  rob,  with  any  corps  in  the  ser- 
vice ; and  the  word  is  a bold  one.” 

Our  brief  conference  was  broken  up  by  the 
return  of  Cestius,  who,  outrageous  at  the  de- 
lay, and  coming  to  inquire  the  cause,  found 
fresh  fuel  for  his  wrath  in  the  sight  of  the  Arab 
captain  turned  into  my  protector.  With  an 
execration  he  demanded  why  his  orders  had 
been  disobeyed.  The  captain  answered  with 
the  most  provoking  coolness,  that  “ no  Roman 
officer,  let  his  rank  be  what  it  might,  was  en- 
titled to  degrade  the  allies  into  executioners.” 
The  Roman  grew  furious  with  the  slight  in 
the  face  of  the  troops,  who  highly  enjoyed  it. 
The  Arab  grew  more  sarcastic  ; till  Cestius 
was  rash  enough  to  lift  his  hand,  and  the 
Arab  anticipated  the  blow  by  dashing  his 
charger  at  him,  and  leaving  the  haughty 
general  and  his  horse  struggling  together  on 
the  ground. 

An  insult  of  this  kind  to  the  second  in 
command  was,  of  course,  not  to  be  forgiven. 
The  Arabs  bent  their  bows  to  make  battle  for 
their  captain,  but  he  forbade  resistance ; and 
when  the  legionary  tribune  demanded  his 
sword,  he  surrendered  it  with  a smile,  saying, 
that  “ he  had  done  service  enough  for  one 
day,  in  saving  an  honest  man,  and  punishing 
a ruffian,”  and  that  he  should  justify  himself 
to  Titus  alone. 

My  fate  was  still  undetermined.  But  the 
legionaries  soon  had  more  pressing  matters 
to  think  of  The  clangour  of  horns  and  loud 
shouts  came  in  the  direction  of  the  city.  The 
plain  still  lay  in  shade ; but  I could  see 
through  the  dusk  immense  crowds  moving 
forward  like  an  inundation.  The  legions 
were  instantly  under  arms,  and  I stood  a 
chance  of  being  walked  over  by  two  armies. 

But  I was  not  to  encounter  so  distinguished 
a catastrophe.  Some  symptoms  of  my  inclina- 
tion to  escape  attracted  the  eye  of  the  guard, 
and  I was  marched  to  tfoe  common  repository 
of  malefactors  in  the  rear  of  the  lines. 


CHAPTER  XLIX. 

My  new  quarters  were  within  the  walls 
of  one  of  those  huge  country  mansions,  which 
the  pride  of  our  ancestors  had  built  to  be  the 
plague  of  their  posterity  ; for  those  the  ene- 
my chiefly  employed  for  our  prisons.  Their 


166 


Salathiel. 


prodigious  strength  defied  desultory  attack;' 
time  made  little  other  impression  on  them 
than  to  picture  their  walls  with  innumerable 
stains ; and  the  man  must  be  a practised  pri- 
son-breaker who  could  force  his  way  out  of 
their  depths  of  marble. 

But  if  my  eyes  were  useless,  my  ears  had 
their  full  indulgence.  Every  sound  of  the 
conflict  was  heard.  The  attack  was  frequent- 
ly furious,  and  must  have  been  close  to  the  j 
walls  of  niy  dungeon.  The  various  rallying! 
cries  of  the  tribes  rang  through  its  cells;  then 
a Roman  shout  and  the  heavy  charge  of  the 
cavalry  would  roll  along,  till,  after  an  encoun- 
tering roar  and  a long  clashing  of  weapons, 
the  tumult  passed  wildly  away,  to  be  rapidly 
renewed  by  the  obstinate  bravery  of  my  un- 
fortunate countrymen. 

I felt  as  a man  and  a leader  must  feel,  dur- 
ing scenes  in  which  he  ought  to  take  a part, 
yet  to  which  he  was  virtually  as  much  dead 
as  the  sleeper  in  the  tomb.  My  life  had  been 
activity ; my  heart  was  in  the  cause ; I had 
knowledge,  zeal,  and  strength,  that  might  in 
the  chances  of  battle  turn  defeat  into  triumph. 
My  name  was  known;  I heard  it  often  among 
the  charging  cries  of  the  day.  But  here  I 
lay  within  impassable  barriers.  A thousand 
times  during  those  miserable  hours  I mea- 
sured their  height  with  my  eye,  and  longed 
for  the  hopeless  vigor  that  could  scale  them  ; 
then  threw  myself  on  the  ground,  and,  closing 
my  ears  with  my  hands,  labored  to  exclude 
thought  from  my  soul. 

But  my  fellow-prisoners  were  practical 
philosophers  to  a man  ; untaught  in  theschools, 
’tis  true,  yet  fully  trained  in  that  great  aca- 
demy, worth  all  that  Plato  ever  dreamed  in — 
experience. 

In  my  wanderings  among  mankind,  I 
never  before  had  such  an  opportunity  of  study- 
ing variety  of  character.  War  is  the  hot-bed 
that  urges  all  our  qualities,  good  and  evil, 
into  their  broadest  luxuriance.  The  generous 
become  munificent,  the  mean  turn  into  the 
villainous,  and  the  rude  harden  into  brutality. 
The  camp  is  the  great  inn,  at  which  all  the 
dubious  qualities  set  up  their  rest ; and  a 
single  campaign  perfects  the  culprit  to  the 
height  of  his  profession.  There  were  round 
me  in  these  immense  halls  about  five  hun- 
dred profligates,  any  one  of  who.-e  histories 
would  have  been  invaluable  to  a scorner  of 
human  nature. 

Among  the  loose  armies  of  the  East,  those 
fellows  exercised  their  vocation  as  regular 
appendages;  often  lived  in  luxury,  and  some- 
times shot  up  into  leaders  themselyes.  But 
the  approach  to  the  Roman  armies  required 
a master  hand.  The  temptation  was  strong, 
for  the  legionary  was  the  grand  ravager: 
war  was  always  busy  where  he  trod;  and, 
like  the  lion,  he  left  the  larger  share  of  the 


prey  to  the  jackall.  But  justice,  inexorable 
and  rapid,  was  his  rule,  in  all  cases  but  his 
own ; and  the  jackall,  suspected  of  trespassing 
beyond  the  legitimate  distance  from  the  su- 
perior savage,  ran  the  most  imminent  hazard 
of  being  disqualified  for  all  encroachments  to 
come.  Three-fourths  of  my  associates  had 
played  this  perilous  game,  and  its  penalties 
were  now  awaiting  only  the  first  leisure  of 
the  troops.  Peace,  at  all  times  vexatious  to 
their  trade,  had  thus  a double  disgust  for 
them  ; and  the  most  patriotic  son  of  Israel 
could  not  have  taken  a more  zealous  interest 
in  the  defeat  of  the  legions.  But  philosophy 
still  predominated,  and  when  the  retiring 
sounds  showed  the  repulse  of  the  tribes,  not 
a countenance  was  the  darker;  if  hope  was 
at  an  end,  hilarity  took  its  place,  and  the 
prison  rang  with  the  most  reckless  exhibitions 
of  practical  glee,  riotous  songs,  and  fierce 
mockeries  at  the  power  of  rods  and  axes. 
The  professional  talents  of  those  sons  of 
chance  were  remorselessly  displayed.  The 
mimic  collected  his  audience,  burlesqued  the 
pompous  tribunes  and  officials  of  the  army, 
and  gathered  his  pence  and  plaudits,  as  if  he 
was  under  the  open  sky,  and  could  call  his 
head  his  own.  The  nostrum-vender  had  his 
secrets  for  the  cure  of  every  ill,  and  ha- 
rangued on  the  impotence  of  brand,  scourge, 
and  blade,  where  the  patient  had  but  the 
wisdom  to  employ  his  irresistible  unguent. 
The  soothsayer  sold  fate  at  the  lowest  price, 
and  fixed  the  casualties  of  the  next  four-and- 
twenty  hours;  an  easy  task  with  thepricipal 
part  of  his  audience.  The  minstrel  chanted 
the  honor  and  glory  of  a life  unencumbered 
by  care  or  conscience.  And  the  pilferer, 
with  but  an  hour  to  live,  exercised  his  trade 
with  an  industry  proportioned  to  the  shortness 
of  his  time. 

In  the  whole  gang  I met  with  but  one  man 
thoroughly  out  of  spirits.  He  had  obviously 
been  no  favorite  of  fortune,  for  the  human 
form  could  scarcely  be  less  indebted  to  cloth- 
ing. His  swarthy  visage  was  doubly  black- 
ened by  hunger  and  exhaustion,  and  even 
his  voice  had  a prison  sound.  Driven  away 
from  the  joyous  groups  by  the  natural  repul- 
sion which  the  careless  feel  for  visages  that 
remind  them  of  the  world’s  troubles,  he  took 
refuge  in  the  corner  where  I lay,  tormented 
by  every  echo  of  the  battle. 

His  groans  attracted  my  notice,  and,  not 
unwilling  to  forget  the  melancholy  and  agi- 
tating scenes,  in  which  every  moment  was 
draining  the  last  hope  of  my  country,  I turn- 
ed to  the  wretch  beside  me,  and  asked  the 
cause  of  his  sorrows. 

“ Ingratitude,”  was  the  reply.  “ This  is  a 
villainous  world ; a man  may  spend  his  life 
in  serving  others ; and  what  will  he  gain  in 
the  end  1 Nothing.  There  is,  for  instance. 


Salathiel. 


167 


the  prince  of  Damascus,  wallowing  in  wealth; 
yet  the  greatest  rogue  under  this  roof  has 
not  a more  pitiful  stock  of  honor;  witness 
his  conduct  to  me.  He  was  out  of  favor 
with  his  uncle,  the  late  prince ; was  not 
worth  more  than  the  raiment  on  his  limbs  ; 
and  as  likely  to  finish  his  days  on  the  gibbet 
as  any  of  the  knot  of  robbers  that  helped  him 
to  scour  the  roads  about  Sidon.  In  his  dis- 
tress he  applied  to  me.  I had  driven  a hand- 
some smuggling  trade  between  Egypt  and 
the  north,  and  now  and  then  gave  him  a hand- 
some price  for  his  booty.  The  idea  of  bring- 
ing his  uncle  to  a compromise  was  out  of  the 
question.  The  attempt  would  have  probably  j 
first  brought  ourselves  to  the  axe.  I gave  in 
my  proposal,  and  named  my  price ; it  was 
allowed  to  be  fair.  I made  my  way  into  the 
palace,  became  a favorite,  by  giving  up  some 
of  my  old  friends  of  the  troop;  was  exalted 
to  the  honors  of  cup-bearer : and,  on  my  first 
night  of  office,  gave  the  old  man  a cup  which 
cured  him  of  drunkenness  for  ever.  And 
what  do  you  think  was  my  reward  1” 

“ I think  I could  name  what  it  ought  to 
have  been.” 

“You  conclude,  half  his  heir’s  jewels  and 
treasure,  at  the  least : — No  ; not  a stone,  not 
a shekel.  I was  thrown  into  chains,  and 
finally  kicked  out  of  the  city,  with  a promise, 
the  only  one  that  he  will  ever  keep,  that  if  I 
venture  into  his  sacred  presence  again,  I 
shall  leave  it  without  my  head.  There’s  a 
villain  for  you  ! There’s  gratitude  ! He 
will  never  do  good  as  long  as  he  lives !” 

“ That  may  still  depend  upon  your  assis- 
tance. Return  to  him,  and  give  him  the  op- 
portunity.” 

“ My  next  example  was  among  the  Ro- 
mans. It  must  be  owned  that  they  pay  well 
for  secret  services.  But  then,  ingratitude 
infects  them  from  top  to  toe.  I had  been 
three  years  in  their  employment ; and,  if  I 
made  free  with  a few  of  their  secrets  in  favor 
of  others,  it  was  only  on  the  commercial 
principle  of  having  as  many  customers  as  one 
can  supply  ; still  I helped  them  to  the  know- 
ledge of  all  that  was  going  on. 

“ At  last  a showy  adventurer  changed  the 
scene  of  my  labors.  Some  insult  from  the 
prefect  stirred  up  his  blood,  and  in  revenge 
he  sailed  away  with  his  galley,  and  set  up 
on  his  own  account.  The  prefect  had  reason 
to  regret  the  quarrel ; for  not  a sail,  from  a 
shallop  to  a trireme,  could  touch  the  water 
from  the  Cyclades  to  Cyprus,  without  being 
overhauled  by  the  captain.  I was  set  upon 
his  track,  and  got  into  his  good  graces  by 
lending  him  a little  of  my  information,  of 
which  he  made  such  desperate  use,  that  the 
prefect  swore  my  destruction  as  a traitor. 
To  make  up  the  quarrel,  I tried  a wider  game, 
and  was  bringing  the  Roman  fleet  upon  the 


pirates  in  their  very  nest,  when  a whole 
course  of  ill  luck  came  across  me.  A pair 
whom,  to  the  last  hour  of  my  life,  nothing 
will  persuade  me  to  think  any  thing  but  de- 
mons sent  expressly  to  do  me  mischief,  broke 
up  one  of  the  finest  inventions  that  ever  came 
into  the  head  of  man. 

“ The  consequence  was,  that  the  pirates, 
instead  of  being  attacked,  burned  the  prefect’s 
bed  under  him,  and  would  have  burned  him- 
self, if  he  had  not  thought  a watery  end  better 
than  a fiery  one,  leaped  overboard,  and  gone 
straight  to  the  bottom.  The  whole  blame 
fell  upon  me;  and  my  only  payment  from 
the  Romans  was  the  cropping  of  my  ears, 
and  a declaration,  sworn  to  in  the  names  of 
Romulus  and  Remus,  that  if  I ever  ventured 
again  within  a Roman  camp  or  city,  I should 
not  get  off  so  well.  There’s  ingratitude  for 
you ; never  was  man  so  unfortunate.” 

“Quite  the  contrary;  it  appears  to  me, 
that  seldom  was  man  so  lucky.  If  not  one 
in  a hundred  would  have  your  tale  to  tell, 
not  one  in  a thousand  would  have  lived  to 
tell  it.”  I had  already  recognized  the  Egyp- 
tian of  the  cavern. 

“ But  gratitude,  humanity,  justice.” 

“ Say  no  more  about  them.  Or,  if  any 
libeller  of  your  masters  start  up,  tell  your 
story  and  confute  him.  Whatever  the  Romans 
may  be  in  the  matters  of  justice,  your  case  is 
an  answer  to  all  charges  on  their  mercy.” 

He  looked  at  me  with  a ghastly  grimace, 
and,  as  he  threw  back  the  long  and  squalid 
locks  that  covered  his  countenance,  showed 
what  beggary  had  done  to  the  sleek  features 
of  the  once  superbly  clothed  and  jewelled 
sea-rover.  “ But  what,”  said  I,  “ threw  a 
man  of  your  virtue  among  such  a gang  of 
caitiffs  as  are  here  I” 

“ Another  instance  of  ingratitude.  I had 
been  for  twenty  years  connected  with  one  of 
the  leading  men  of  Jerusalem,  and  I will  say, 
that  in  my  experience  of  mankind,  I have 
known  no  individual  less  perplexed  with  any 
weakness  of  conscience.  He  had  a difficult 
game  to  play  between  the  Romans,  whom 
he  served  privately,  the  Jews,  whom  he 
served  publicly,  and  himself,  whom  he  served 
with  at  least  as  much  zeal  as  either  of  his 
employers.  The  times  were  made  for  the 
success  of  a man  who  has  his  eyes  open,  and 
suffers  neither  the  fear  of  any  thing  on  earth, 
nor  the  hope  of  any  thing  after  it,  to  shut 
them.  He  succeeded  accordingly  : got  rid 
of  some  rivals  by  the  dagger  ; sent  some  to 
harangue  in  the  dungeon ; bribed,  where 
money  would  answer  his  purpose  ; menaced, 
where  threats  would  be  current  coin ; and, 
bv  the  practice  of  those  natural  means  of 
nsing  in  public  affairs,  became  the  hope  of 
a faction.  But  on  his  glory  there  was  one 
cloud — the  prince  of  Naphtali !” 


168 


Salat  hi  el. 


I listened,  all  ear.  I had  deeply  known 
the  early  hostility  of  Onias;  but  his  devices) 
were  too  tortuous  for  me  to  trace,  and,  till 
the  past  night,  I had  lost  sight  of  him  for 
years.  I asked  what  cause  of  bitterness  ex- 
isted between  these  personages. 

“ A multitude;  as  generally  happens  where 
the  imagination  becomes  a party,  and  the  ac- 
cuser is  allowed  to  be  the  judge.  The  prince, 
in  youth,  and  before  he  attained  his  rank,  had 
the  insolence  to  fall  in  love  with  a woman 
marked  by  Onias  for  his  own.  He  had  the 
additional  insolence  to  attract  her,  and  the 
completion  of  his  crimes  was  marriage.  Onias 
swore  his  ruin  thenceforth.  Public  convul- 
sions put  off  the  promise ; and  while  he  was 
driven  to  his  last  struggle  to  keep  himself 
among  the  living,  he  had  the  indulgence  of 
seeing  the  young  husband  shoot  up  without 
any  trouble  into  rank,  wealth,  and  renown.” 

“ But  has  not  time  blunted  his  hostility  1” 

“ Time,  as  the  proverb  goes,  blunts  nothing 
but  a man’s  wit,  his  teeth,  and  his  good  in- 
tentions,” said  the  knave,  with  a sneer  on  his 
grim  visage.  “ The  next  half  is,  that  it 
sharpens  wine,  women,  and  wickedness. 
What  Onias  may  have  been  doing  of  late,  I 
can  only  guess;  but,  unless  he  is  changed  by 
miracle,  he  has  been  dealing  in  every  villain- 
ous contrivance  from  subornation  to  sorcery. 

I had  my  own  affairs  to  mind.  But,  unless 
Satan  owes  him  a grudge,  he  is  now  not  far 
from  his  revenge.” 

I thought  of  our  meeting  at  the  city  gates ; 
and,  alarmed  at  the  chance  of  his  discovering 
my  family,  asked,  whether  Onias  had  obtained 
any  late  knowledge  of  his  rival. 

“ Of  that  I know  but  little,”  said  he ; “ yet, 
quick  as  his  revenge  may  be,  unless  my 
honest  employer  manages  with  more  temper 
than  usual,  he  will  rue  the  hour  when  he  set 
foot  on  the  track  of  the  prince  of  Naphtali. 
If  ever  man  possessed  the  mastery  of  the 
spirits  that  our  wizards  pretend  to  raise,  the 

Erince  is  that  man.  I myself  have  haunted 
im  for  many  years;  yet  he  always  baffled 
me.  I have  laid  traps  for  him  that  nothing 
in  human  cunning  could  have  escaped  ; yet 
he  broke  through  them,  as  if  they  were 
spider’s  webs.  I lured  him  by  his  domestics 
into  the  hands  of  the  Romans;  and  saw  him 
sent  to  the  thirstiest  lover  of  blood  that  ever 
sat  on  a throne.  Yet  he  came  back ; aye, 
came  from  the  very  clutch  of  Nero.  I mad- 
dened his  friends  against  him ; and  he  con- 
trived to  escape  even  from  the  malice  and 
madness  of  his  friends;  a matter  which,  you 
will  own,  is  among  the  most  memorable.  I 
had  him  plunged  into  a dungeon ; where  I 
kept  him  alive,  for  certain  reasons,  while 
Onias  was  to  be  kept  to  his  bargain  by  the 
prisoner’s  re-appearance.  Yet  he  escaped ; 
and  my  last  intelligence  of  him  is,  that  this  I 


master  of  fate  and  fortune  is  at  this  moment 
living  in  pomp  in  Jerusalem,  the  spot  where 
I have  been  for  the  last  month  in  close  pur- 
suit of  him.  Time,  or  some  marvellous 
power,  must  have  disguised  him.  And  yet, 
if  I were  to  meet  the  man  this  night — ” 

“ Look  on  me,  slave  !”  I rose  and  grasped 
him  by  the  throat,  and  unsheathed  my  dagger. 
“You  have  found  him,  and  to  your  cost. 
Atrocious  villain : it  is  to  you,  then,  that  I 
owe  so  much  misery.  Make  your  peace  with 
heaven,  if  you  can ; for  it  would  be  a crime 
to  suffer  you  to  leave  this  spot  alive.” 

He  was  dumb  with  terror.  I held  him 
with  an  iron  grasp.  The  thought  that  if  he 
escaped  me,  it  must  be  only  to  let  loose  a 
murderer  against  my  house,  made  me  feel 
his  death  an  act  of  justice. 

“ Let  me  go,”  he  at  last  muttered  ; “ let 
me  live  ; I am  not  fit  to  die.  In  the  name 
of  that  Lord  whom  you  worship,  spare  me.” 
He  fell  at  my  feet,  in  desperate  and  howling 
supplication.  “ You  have  not  heard  all ; I 
have  abjured  your  enemy.  Spare  me,  and  I 
will  swear  to  pass  my  days  in  the  desert,  a 
wanderer ; never  to  come  again  before  the 
face  of  man;  to  lie  upon  the  rock — to  live 
upon  the  weed — to  drink  of  the  pool — to 
macerate  this  miserable  body,  until  I sink 
into  the  grave !” 

I paused,  struck  by  the  abject  eagerness 
for  life  in  a wretch  self-condemned,  and 
whose  life  was  ready  to  be  thus  vowed  to 
misery.  While  I held  the  dagger  glittering 
before  him,  his  senses  continued  bound  up 
by  fear.  He  gazed  on  it  with  an  eye  that 
quivered  with  every  quivering  of  the  steel. 
With  one  hand  he  grasped  my  uplifted  arm 
as  he  knelt,  and  with  the  other  gathered  his 
rags  round  his  throat  to  cover  it  from  the 
blow.  His  voice  was  lost  in  horrid  gaspings; 
his  mouth  was  wide  open  and  livid;  the  hair 
of  his  head  started  up,  and  writhed  with  the 
deadly  writhing  of  his  features.  I sheathed 
the  weapon,  and  his  countenance  instantly 
returned  into  its  hollow  grimace.  A ghastly 
smile  grew  upon  it,  as  he  drew  from  his 
bosom  a small  packet. 

“If  you  had  put  me  to  death,”  said  the 
wretch,  “ you  would  have  lost  your  best 
friend.  This  packet  contains  a correspondence 
for  which  Onias  would  give  all  that  he  is 
worth  in  the  world  ; and  well  he  might ; for 
the  man  who  has  it  in  his  hands,  has  his  life. 
The  world  is  made  up  of  ingratitude.  After 
all  my  services,  slandering  here,  plundering 
there,  hunting  down  his  opponents  in  every 
direction,  till  they  either  put  themselves  out 
of  the  world,  or  he  saved  them  the  trouble ; 
he  had  the  baseness  to  throw  me  off.  At  the 
head  of  his  troops,  when  he  felt  himself  se- 
cure, he  flung  me  into  scorn ; he  kicked  me 
from  his  horse’s  side ; nay,  ordered  me  to  be 


Salathiel. 


169 


turned  loose,  as  he  said,  ‘ to  carry  my  treach- 
ery to  the  Romans,  if  they  should  be  fools 
enough  to  think  me  worth  the  hire.’  I was 
watching  my  opportunity  to  enter  Jerusalem, 
and  stab  him  to  the  heart,  when  I was  taken 
by  some  of  the  plunderers  that  hover  round 
the  camp ; was  recognized  as  having  done 
some  things  in  my  time  too  ingenious  for 
vulgar  conceptions ; and  am  probably  to  suf- 
fer for  the  benefit  of  Roman  morality,  as  a 
robber  and  assassin,  as  soon  as  the  legions 
shall  have  murdered  every  man,  and  robbed 
every  house  in  Jerusalem.” 

The  packet  contained  a close  correspond-' 
ence  of  Onias  with  the  Roman  authorities. 
A sensation  of  triumph  glowed  through  me, 
— I held  the  fate  of  my  implacable  enemy  in 
my  hand.  I could  now  with  a word  strike 
to  the  earth  the  being  whose  artifices  and 
cruelties  had  way-laid  me  through  life ; the 
traitor  to  my  country  would  perish  by  the 
same  blow  that  avenged  my  own  wrongs. 
“ The  last  hours  of  his  culprit  existence  should 
be  hours  of  that  solemn  and  self-acknow- 
ledged retribution,  which  seals  the  triumphs 
of  justice !” 

My  nature  was  made  for  violent  passions. 
In  love  and  hatred,  in  ambition,  in  scorn,  in 
revenge,  my  original  spirit  knew  no  bounds. 
Time,  sorrow,  and  the  conviction  of  my  own 
outcast  state,  softened  those  powerful  and 
hazardous  impulses,  and  I found  the  value  of 
adversity.  Misfortune  comes  with  healing 
on  its  wings  to  the  burning  temper  of  the 
heart,  as  the  tempest  comes  to  the  arid  soil. 
It  tears  up  the  surface,  but  softens  it  for  the 
seeds  of  the  nobler  virtues ; in  even  its  fee- 
blest work,  it  cools  the  withering  and  de- 
vouring heat  for  a time.  I had  yet  to  find 
with  what  fatal  rapidity  the  heart  resumes  its 
old.  overwhelming  passions. 

“ I spare  your  life said  I,  “ but  on  one 
condition.  That  you  henceforth  make  Onias 
the  perpetual  object  of  your  vigilance  ; that 
you  keep  him  from  injury  to  me  and  mine  : 
and  that,  when  I shall  seize  him  at  last,  you 
shall  be  forthcoming  to  give  public  proof  of 
his  treachery.” 

“This  sounds  well,”  said  the  Egyptian,  as 
he  cast  his  eyes  round  the  lofty  hall.  “ But 
it  would  sound  better,  if  we  were  not  on  this 
side  of  the  gate.  All  the  talking  in  the 
world  will  not  lower  those  walls  an  inch,  nor 
make  that  gate  turn  on  its  hinges ; though 
for  that,  and  for  every  other  too,  there  is  one 
master  key.  Happy  was  the  time,”  and  the 
fellow’s  sullen  eye  lighted  up  with  the  joy 
of  knavery,  “ when  I could  walk  through 
every  cabinet  closet,  and  cell,  from  the  em- 
peror’s palace  in  Rome  down  to  the  emperor’s 
dungeon  in  Cesarea. 

I produced  a few  coins,  which  I had  con- 
trived to  conceal ; and  flung  them  into  his 


clutch.  The  sum  rekindled  life  in  him ; 
avarice  has  its  enthusiasts,  as  well  as  super- 
stition. He  forgot  danger,  prison,  and  even 
my  dagger,  in  the  sight  of  his  idol.  He 
turned  the  coins  to  the  light  in  all  possible 
ways  ; he  tried  them  with  his  teeth;  he  tast- 
ed, he  kissed,  he  pressed  them  to  his  bosom. 
Never  was  lover  at  the  feet  of  his  mistress 
more  rapturous,  than  this  last  of  human 
beings,  at  the  touch  of  money  in  the  midst 
of  wretchedness  and  ruin,  with  the  chance 
of  immediate  death,  and  the  certainty  of  des- 
perate and  solitary  hazard,  even  if  he  should 
escape.  His  transports  taught  me  a lesson  ; 
and  in  that  prison  and  from  that  slave  of  vice, 
1 learned  long  to  tremble  at  the  power  of  gold 
over  the  human  mind. 

It  was  past  midnight,  and  the  noise  of  the 
criminals  round  me  had  already  sunk  away. 
The  floor  was  strewed  with  sleepers,  and  the 
only  waking  figure  was  the  sentinel  as  he 
trod  wearily  along  the  passages ; when  the 
Egyptian,  desiring  me  to  feign  sleep,  that  hi3 
farther  operations  might  not  be  embarrassed, 
drew  himself  along  the  ground  towards  him. 
The  soldier,  a huge  German  covered  with 
beard  and  iron,  and  going  his  rounds  with 
the  insensibility  of  a machine,  all  but  trod 
upon  the  Egyptian,  who  lay  crouching  and 
writhing  before  him.  I saw  the  spear  lifted 
up,  and  heard  a growl  that  made  me  think 
my  envoy’s  career  completely  at  an  end  in 
this  world.  He  still  lay  on  the  ground,  writh- 
ing under  the  German’s  foot  as  a serpent 
might  under  the  paw  of  a lion. 

I was  about  to  spring  up,  and  interpose ; 
but  his  time  was  not  yet  come.  The  spear 
hung  in  air,  gradually  turned  its  point  up- 
wards, and  finally  resumed  its  seat  of  peace 
on  the  German’s  shoulder.  That  art  of  per- 
suasion which  speaks  *p  the  palm,  whose 
language  is  of  all  nations,  had  touched  the 
son  of  Woden ; I heard  the  sound  of  the  coin 
on  the  marble;  a few  words  arranged  the 
details : the  sentinel  discovered  that  his  vigi- 
lance was  required  in  another  direction ; 
broke  off  his  customary  round,  and  walked 
away.  The  Egyptian  turned  to  me  with  a 
triumphant  smile  on  his  villainous  visage; 
the  gate  rolled  on  its  hinge,  and  he  slipped 
through  like  a shadow. 

On  this  instant,  my  mind  misgave  me.  I 
had  put  the  fate  of  my  family  into  the  hands 
of  a slave,  destitute  of  even  the  pretence  of 
principle.  In  my  eagerness  to  save,  might  I 
not  have  been  delivering  them  up  to  the 
enemy  1 He  had  sold  Onias  to  me;  might 
he  not  make  his  peace  by  selling  me  to 
Onias  1 The  gate  was  still  open.  The  sen- 
tinel was  gone  to  a distant  part  of  the  build- 
ing. A few  steps  would  put  me  beyond  bon- 
dage. 

Yet,  I come  to  recover  Esther.  If  I left 


170 


Salalhiel. 


the  camp,  what  hope  was  there  of  my  ever 
seeing-  this  child  of  my  heart  again  1 How 
could  I enjoy  liberty,  while  [ thought  that 
she  was  in  Roman  hands  1 would  not  every 
hour  of  my  life  be  embittered  by  the  chance 
that  she  might  be  suffering  the  miseries  of  a 
dungeon,  or  be  borne  away  from  every  being 
that  she  loved,  into  a strange  land  ? or  dying, 
and  calling  on  me  for  help  in  vain  ! 

Those  contending  impulses  passed  through 
my  mind  with  the  speed,  and  almost  with 
the  agony,  of  an  arrow.  But  the  more  I 
thought  of  the  Egyptian,  the  more  I took  his 
treachery  for  certain.  The  present  ruin  of 
all  predominated  over  the  possible  suffer- 
ings of  one;  and  with  a heart  throbbing  al- 
most to  suffocation,  and  a step  scarcely  able 
to  move,  I dragged  myself  towards  the  por- 
tal. 


CHAPTER  L. 

But  I was  not  to  escape,  and  anticipate 
the  traitor.  As  I touched  the  threshold,  a 
loud  sound  of  trampling  feet  and  many  voices 
drove  me  back.  But  that  curious  texture  of 
the  feeling  which  prefers  suffering  to  sus- 
pense, I was  almost  glad  to  have  the  ques- 
tion decided  for  me  by  fortune,  and  flung 
myself  on  the  ground  among  a heap  of  the 
undone,  who  lay  enjoying  a slumber  that 
might  be  envied  by  princes. 

The  gate  was  thrown  open,  and  in  burst  a 
living  mass  of  horror, — a multitude  of  beings 
in  whom  the  human  face  and  form  were  al- 
most obliterated  ; shapes  gaunt  with  famine, 
black  with  dust,  withered  with  deadly  fatigue, 
and  covered  with  gashes  and  gore. 

The  war  had  gone  on  from  cruelty  to 
cruelty.  To  the  Roman  the  Jew  was  a rebel, 
and  he  received  a rebel’s  treatment ; to  the 
Jew  the  Roman  was  a tyrant,  and  dearly  was 
the  price  of  his  tyranny  exacted.  Quarter 
was  seldom  given  on  either  side.  The  natu- 
ral generosity  of  the  son  of  Vespasian  at- 
tempted for  a while  to  soften  the  rigors  of 
this  furious  system.  But  the  slaughter  of  the 
mission  exasperated  him;  he  declared  the 
Jews  a people  incapable  of  faith,  and  pro- 
claimed a war  of  extermination. 

The  battle  of  the  day  had  furnished  the 
first  opportunity  of  formal  vengeance.  The 
peoplp,  stimulated  by  the  arrival  and  ambi- 
tion of  Onias,  had  made  a desperate  effort  to 
force  the  Roman  lines.  The  attacks  were 
reiterated  with  more  than  valor,  with  rage 
and  madness  ; the  Jews  fought  with  a disre- 
gard of  life  that  appalled  and  had  nearly  over-  j 
whelmed  even  the  Roman  steadiness.  The 
loss  of  the  legions  was  formidable  ; all  their 
chief  officers  were  wounded,  many  were  j 


(killed.  Titus  himself,  leading  a column 
from  the  Decuman  gate,  was  wounded  by  a 
blow  from  a sling ; and  the  state  of  the  ram- 
I parte,  as  I saw  them  at  daybreak,  torn  down 
(in  immense  breaches,  and  filling  up  the  ditch 
with  their  ruins,  showed  the  imminent  haz- 
ard of  the  whole  army.  Another  hour  of  light 
would  probably  have  been  its  ruin.  But 
Judea  would  not  have  been  the  more  secure; 
for  the  factions,  relieved  from  the  presence  of 
an  enemy,  would  have  torn  each  other  to 
pieces. 

The  loss  of  the  Jews  was  so  prodigious,  as 
to  be  accounted  for  only  by  their  eagerness  to 
throw  away  life.  Not  less  than  a hundred 
thousand  corpses  lay  between  the  camp  and 
Jerusalem.  No  prisoners  were  taken  ; and 
the  crowd  that  now  approached  were  the 
wounded,  gathered  off  the  field,  to  be  cruci- 
fied in  atonement  to  the  memory  of  the  mis- 
sion. 

The  coming  of  those  victims  put  an  end  to 
the  possibility  or  the  desire  to  sleep.  The 
immense  and  gloomy  hall,  one  of  those  in  use 
for  the  stately  banquets,  customary  among 
the  leaders  of  Jerusalem,  was  suddenly  a 
blaze  of  torches.  The  malefactors  and  cap- 
tives were  thrown  together  in  heaps,  guarded 
by  a strong  detachment  of  spearmen,  that 
(lined  the  sides,  like  ranges  of  iron  statues 
overlooking  the  mixed  and  moving  confusion 
of  wretched  life  between.  Guilt,  sorrow, 
and  shame,  were  there  in  their  dreadful  un- 
disguise. The  roof  rang  to  oaths  and 
screams  of  pain,  as  the  wounded  tossed  and 
rolled  upon  each  other;  to  bitter  lamentation, 
and  more  bitter  still,  to  those  self-accusing 
outcries  that  the  near  approach  of  violent 
death  sometimes  furiously  awakens  in  the 
most  daring  criminals.  For,  stern  as  the 
justice  was,  it  still  was  justice ; the  Jewish 
character  had  fearfully  changed.  Rapine 
and  bloodshed  had  become  the  habits  of  the 
populace.  And  among  the  panting  and 
quivering  wretches  before  me,  begging  a 
moment  of  life,  I recognized  many  a face, 
that,  seen  in  Jerusalem,  was  the  sign  of 
plunder  and  massacre. 

Repulsive  as  my  recollections  were,  T spent 
the  greater  part  of  the  night  in  bandaging 
their  wounds,  and  relieving  the  thirst,  which 
scarcely  less  than  their  wounds,  wrung  them. 
There  were  women  too  amona-  those  wrecks 
of  the  sword  ; and  now  that  the  frenzy  of  the 
day  was  passed,  they  exhibited  a picture  of 
the  most  heart-breaking  dejection. 

Lying  on  the  ground,  with  mutilated  limbs 
and  every  lineament  of  their  former  selves 
disfigured,  they  cried  from  that  living  grave 
alternately  for  vengeance  and  for  mercy. 
Then,  tearing  their  hair,  and  flinging  it  as 
their  last  mark  of  hatred  and  scorn  at  the 
legionaries,  they  devoted  them  to  ruin  in  the 


Salathiel. 


171 


name  of  the  God  of  Israel.  Then  passion 
would  give  way  to  pain  or  a sense  of  ruin, 
and  in  floods  of  tears  they  called  on  the  names 
of  parent,  husband,  and  child,  whom  they 
were  to  see  no  more. 

It  was  known  that,  at  day -break  the  prison- 
ers were  to  die ; and  the  din  of  hammers, 
and  the  creaking  of  wagons,  hearing  the 
crosses,  broke  the  night  with  horrid  intima- 
tion At  length,  the  stillness  terribly  told 
that  all  was  prepared.  The  night,  measured 
by  moments,  seemed  endless,  and  many  a 
longing  was  uttered  for  the  dawn  that  was  to 
put  them  out  of  their  misery.  Yet  when  the 
first  grey  light  fell  through  the  casements, 
and  the  trumpet  sounded  for  the  escort  to  get 
under  arms,  nothing  could  exceed  the  fury 
and  despair  of  the  crowd.  Some  rushed  upon 
the  spears  of  the  reluctant  soldiery ; some 
bounded  in  mad  antics  through  the  hall ; 
others  fell  on  their  knees,  and  offered  up  hor- 
rid and  shuddering  prayers ; many  flung 
themselves  upon  the  floor,  and  in  the  par- 
oxysm of  wrath  and  fear,  perished. 

Shocked  and  sickened  by  this  misery,  I 
withdrew  from  the  gate,  where  the  tumult 
was  thickest,  as  the  soldiery  was  already 
driving  them  out ; and  returned  to  my  old 
lair  to  await  the  stroke  that  was  to  fall  upon 
myself.  But  I found  it  occupied.  A circle 
were  standing  round  a speaker,  to  whom  they 
listened  with  singular  attention.  The  voice 
caught  my  ear ; from  the  crowd  round  him  I 
was  unable  to  observe  his  features;  but, once 
drawn  within  the  sound  of  his  words,  I shared 
the  general  interest  in  their  extraordinary 
power.  He  was  a preacher  of  the  new  re- 
ligion. 

In  my  wanderings  through  Judea,  it  must 
be  supposed  that  I had  often  met  with  those 
Nazarenes.  Their  doctrines  had  a vivid 
simplicity  that  might  have  attracted  my  at- 
tention as  a philosopher ; but  the  delight  of 
philosophy  was  cold  to  their  power.  The 
splendor  and  strength  of  their  preaching  re- 
alized the  boldest  traditions  of  oratory.  Yet 
their  triumph  was  not  that  of  oratory.  They 
disclaimed  all  pretension  to  eloquence  or  lite- 
rature ; declaring  that,  even  if  they  possessed 
them,  they  dared  not  sully  by  human  instru- 
ments of  success  the  glory  due  to  Heaven. 
They  carried  this  self-denial  to  the  singular 
extent  of  divulging  every  circumstance  cal- 
culated to  deprive  themselves  and  their  doc- 
trines of  human  distinction.  They  openly 
acknowledged  that  they  were  of  humble  birth 
and  occupation,  unlearned  sinners  like  the 
rest  of  mankind,  and,  in  some  instances,  guilty 
of  former  excesses  of  blind  zeal,  bigots  and 
persecutors  of  the  new  religion  even  to 
blood. 

Of  their  master  they  spoke  with  the  same 
openness.  They  told  of  his  humble  origin, 
12 


his  career  of  unpopularity  and  rejection,  and 
his  death  by  the  punishment  of  a slave.  To 
the  scoffer  at  their  hopes  of  a kingdom  to  be 
given  by  the  sufferer  of  that  ignominious 
death,  they  unhesitatingly  answered,  that 
their  hope  was  founded  expressly  upon  his 
cross ; and  that  they  lived  and  rejoiced  in  the 
expectation  that  they  were  to  seal  their  faith 
with  their  blood. 

I had  often  seen  enthusiasm  among  my 
countrymen ; but  this  was  a spirit  of  a dis- 
tinct and  loftier  birth.  It  had  the  vigor  of  en- 
thusiasm without  its  rashness ; the  innocence 
of  infancy  with  the  wisdom  of  years ; the 
solemn  reverence  of  the  Jew  for  the  divine 
will,  free  from  his  jealous  and  exclusive  claim 
to  the  possession  of  the  truth.  The  law  and 
the  prophets  were  perpetually  in  their  hands ; 
and  they  perpetually  embarrassed  our  indo- 
lent doctors  and  acrid  pharisees  with  ques- 
tions and  interpretations,  to  which  no  reply 
could  be  returned  but  a sneer  or  an  anath- 
ema. 

But,  in  the  power  of  conviction,  in  the 
master  art  of  striking  through  the  heart  and 
understanding  with  sudden  light,  like  the 
bolt  from  Heaven,  I never  heard,  I never 
shall  hear,  their  equals.  To  call  it  eloquence, 
was  to  humiliate  this  stupendous  gift;  the 
most  practised  skill  of  the  rhetorician  gave 
way  before  it  like  gossamer — like  chaff  be- 
fore the  whirlwind.  It  broke  its  way  through 
sophistry  by  the  mere  weight  of  thought.  It 
had  a rapid  abundance  and  reality  that  swept 
the  hearer  along.  In  its  disdain  of  the  mere 
decorations  of  speech,  in  the  bold  and  naked 
nerve  of  its  language,  which  the  sickly  soph- 
ist called  uncouthness,  there  was  an  irresisti- 
ble energy — the  energy  of  the  tempest,  giv- 
ing proof  in  its  untameable  and  irregular 
rushings,  of  its  descent  from  a region  beyond 
the  reach  of  man.  I never  listened  to  one 
of  these  preachers,  but  with  the  consciousness 
that  he  was  the  depository  of  mighty  know- 
ledge. He  had  the  whole  mystery  of  the 
human  affections  bare  to  his  eye.  Among  a 
thousand  hearts  one  word  sent  conviction  at 
the  same  instant.  All  their  diversities  of 
feeling,  sorrow,  and  error,  were  shaken  at 
once  by  that  universal  language.  It  talked 
to  the  soul ! Of  those  overwhelming  appeals, 
which  often  lasted  for  hours  together,  and  to 
which  I listened  overwhelmed,  nothing  is 
left  to  posterity,  but  a few  fragments,  and 
those  letters  which  the  Christians  still  pre- 
serve among  their  sacred  writings, — great 
productions,  and  giving  all  the  impression 
that  it  is  possible  to  transmit  to  the  future. 
But,  the  living  voice,  the  illuminated  counte- 
nance, the  frame  glowing  and  instinct  with 
inspiration  ! — what  can  transmit  them  1 
“ Here,”  said  I,  as  I often  stood  and  heard 
their  voices  thundering  over  the  multitude, 


172 


Salat  hiel. 


“ here  is  the  true  power  that  is  to  shake  the 
temples  of  heathenism.  Here  is  a new  ele- 
ment, come  to  overthrow,  to  renovate  the 
new  world.”  1 saw  our  holy  law  struggling 
to  keep  itself  in  existence,  compressed  on 
every  side  by  idolatry  ; a little  fountain  fee- 
bly urging  its  way  through  its  native  rocks, 
but  exhausted  and  dried  up  the  moment  it 
reached  the  plain.  But  here  was  an  ocean, 
an  inexhaustible  depth  and  breadth  of  power, 
made  to  roll  round  the  world,  and  be,  at  the 
will  of  Providence,  the  illimitable  instrument 
of  its  bounty.  I saw  our  holy  law  feebly 
sheltering  under  its  despoiled  and  insulted 
ordinances  the  truth  of  Heaven.  But  here 
was  a religion  scorning  a narrower  temple 
than  the  earth  and  the  heaven  ! 

Yet  I turned  away  from  those  convictions. 
A thousand  times,  I was  on  the  point  of  throw- 
ing myself  at  the  feet  of  the  men  who  bore 
this  transcendent  gift,  and  asking,  “ What 
shall  I do  to  be  saved!”  A thousand  times 
I could  have  cried  out,  “ Almost  thou  per- 
suadest  me  to  be  a Christain.”  But  my  doubt- 
ing heart ! I make  no  attempt  to  account 
for  myself,  or  my  career; — l have  felt  as 
strongly  drawn  back,  as  if  there  was  an  ac- 
tual hand  forcing  me  away.  The  illusion 
was  a willing  one,  and  it  was  suffered,  like 
all  such,  to  hold  me  in  its  captivity.  But, 
even  when  I walked  away,  I have  said, 
“ Whence  had  those  men  this  knowledge! 
If  angels  from  God  were  to  come  down  to 
reclaim  the  world,  could  they  tell  us  things 
different,  or  tell  us  more !” 

I looked  round  upon  the  labors  of  ancient 
wisdom,  and  I saw  how  trivial  a space  its  ut- 
most vigor  cleared,  and  how  soon  even  that 
space  was  overrun  by  the  rankness  of  the 
world  ; and  I said,  “ Here  is  the  central  fire, 
the  mighty  reservoir  of  light,  awaiting  but 
the  divine  command  to  burst  up  in  splendor, 
consume  the  impurities  of  the  world  at  once, 
and  regenerate  mankind.” 

But  the  veil  was  upon  my  face.  I labored 
against  conviction ; and,  shutting  out  the 
subject  from  my  thoughts,  sternly  determined 
to  live  and  die  in  the  faith  of  my  fathers. 

I heard  but  the  few  and  simple  closing 
words  of  the  speaker  in  this  group  of  the  de- 
voted. He  was  sorrowful  that  the  gospel 
had  been  so  long  committed  to  his  hands  in 
vain.  He  had,  through  fear  of  his  own  inad- 
equacy to  the  task  of  converting  his  brethren, 
and  in  remaining  deference  to  their  preju- 
dices, suffered  the  truth  to  decay;  and  seen 
the  illustrious  labors  of  the  apostles,  without 
following  their  example.  “ But,”  said  he,  “ I 
was  rebuked  ; the  opportunity,  once  neglect- 
ed, was  refused  even  to  my  prayers.  I was 
thenceforth  in  perils,  in  civil  war,  in  domes- 
tic sedition.  I am  but  now  come  from  a dun- 
geon. But,  in  my  bonds,  it  pleased  Him  in 


whose  hand  are  the  corners  of  the  heavens  to 
visit  me.  I knelt  and  prayed,  acknowledged 
my  sin,  and  beseeching  him  by  the  mercies 
of  the  Lord,  that  before  I died,  I might  pro- 
claim his  holy  truth  before  Israel.  In  that 
hour  came  a voice  bidding  me  go  forth ; and, 
lo!  my  chains  fell  from  my  hands,  and  I went 
forth.  And  when  I came  to  the  gates  of  the 
dungeon,  I willed  to  go  forward  to  the  city 
of  David.  But  I was  forbidden ; and  my 
steps  were  turned  here  to  awake  my  breth- 
ren to  knowledge,  before  they  perish.” 

The  trumpets  rang  again,  as  a new  crowd 
were  drained  off  to  execution.  My  heart 
sank  at  the  melancholy  sound.  But  among 
the  converts  there  was  not  a murmur. 
“ Kneel,”  said  the  preacher ; “ the  hour  is 
come.  Let  us  give  thanks  unto  the  Lord.” 
They  knelt,  and  he  poured  out  his  spirit  aloud 
in  prayer. 

“ Now  go  forth,”  he  said,  rising  alone ; “ go 
forth  ! redeemed  of  the  Lord.  This  night  have 
ye  known  that  he  is  gracious.  Those  things 
that  God  before  hath  showed  by  the  mouth 
of  all  his  prophets  that  Christ  should  suffer, 
he  hath  fulfilled.  But  ye  have  heard,  but  ye 
have  been  convened,  that  your  sins  may  be 
blotted  out  when  the  times  of  refreshing  shall 
come  from  the  presence  of  the  Lord.  But  ye 
have  been  called — but  ye  have  been  justified 
— but  ye  shall  be  glorified.  Our  hope  of  you 
is  steadfast;  knowing  that  as  you  have  been 
partakers  of  his  cross,  so  shall  ye  be  of  his 
kingdom.  Now  be  grace  unto  you,  and  peace 
from  the  Lord.” 

He  laid  his  hands  upon  the  kneeling  mar- 
tyrs, and  went  slowly  round,  blessing  them. 
His  face  had  been  hitherto  turned  from  me ; 
and  I was  too  much  impressed  by  his  words, 
and  the  awful  circumstances  in  which  he 
stood,  to  even  conjecture  who  he  was.  But 
in  moving  round,  he  came  before  me.  To 
my  inexpressible  surprise  and  alarm,  the 
teacher  was  Eleazar.  I had  lost  every  trace 
of  him  since  we  parted  in  the  fortress ; and, 
with  sorrow  of  heart,  had  concluded  him  a 
sacrifice  to  the  common  atrocities  practised 
in  our  ferocious  war. 

His  long  absence  was  now  explained.  But 
no  explanation  could  account  for  the  extraor- 
dinary change  that  had  been  wrought  upon 
his  countenance  and  mind.  Always  generous 
and  manly,  the  softness  of  a nature  made  for 
domestic  life  had  concealed  the  vigor  of  his 
understanding.  He  was  the  general  recon- 
ciler in  the  disputes  of  the  neighboring  dis- 
tricts— the  impartial  judge — the  unwearied 
friend ; and  his  features  wore  the  stamp  of 
this  quiet  career.  But  the  man  before  me 
bore  uncontrollable  energy  in  every  tone  and 
feature.  The  failing  flame  of  the  torch  that 
burned  over  his  head,  was  enough  to  show 
the  transformation  of  his  countenance  into 


Salathiel. 


173 


force  and  grandeur  ; his  glance  was  a living 
fire : the  hair  that  floated  over  it,  changed 
by  captivity  to  the  whiteness  of  snow,  shaded 
a forehead  that  seemed  to  have  suddenly  ex- 
panded into  majesty.  If  l had  met  with  such 
a man  in  the  desert,  I should  have  augured 
in  him  the  founder,  or  the  subverter  of  a 
throne. 

While  I stood  absolutely  awed  by  his  pre- 
sence, the  gates  were  thrown  open,  and  a 
strong  detachment  of  spearmen  poured  in  to 
gather  up  the  gleanings  of  the  hall.  Then 
was  renewed  the  scene  of  misery.  The  pris- 
oners struggled  furiously  against  the  horrid 
death  that  was  now  certain.  Their  rage  and 
imprecations  were  answered  by  the  blows 
and  curses  of  the  soldiery.  Wretches,  that 
1 had  thought  dead,  started  from  the  ground, 
and  flung  themselves  at  their  feet;  or  rushed 
against  the  armed  ranks,  tore  the  weapons 
out  of  their  hands,  and  broke  them  in  mad 
triumph  through  the  hall;  or  turned  them 
against  the  shields  and  cuirasses  with  the 
force  of  frenzy.  Others  dashed  their  fore- 
heads against  the  walls  and  floor,  and  died 
upon  the  spot.  Others  sprang  up  the  projec- 
tions of  the  sculpture,  and  climbed  with  the 
agility  of  leopards  to  the  roof  to  force  the 
casements.  But  additional  troops  poured  in ; 
and  the  crowd  were  overwhelmed,  and  driven 
out  to  undergo  their  destiny. 

During  this  long  tumult  the  Christian  con- 
verts continued  kneeling,  and  evidently  ab- 
sorbed by  thoughts  that  extinguished  fear. 
Even  the  sounds  from  without,  that  terribly 
told  what  was  going  on,  and  every  tone  of 
which  pierced  me  to  the  marrow,  produced 
only  a deeper  supplication  that  light  would 
be  given  to  the  souls  of  the  sufferers.  This 
patience  probably  induced  the  soldiery  to 
leave  them  to  the  last,  while  they  drove  out 
the  more  untractable  at  the  point  of  the  spear, 
like  cattle  to  the  slaughter.  I still  stood 
aloof.  The  sacredness  of  the  moments  that 
came  before  death  were  not  to  be  interrupted. 
The  transformed  Eleazar  had  already  passed 
away  from  the  things  of  this  world.  I would 
not  force  them  on  him  again,  nor  vainly  and 
cruelly  disturb  the  holy  serenity  of  one  at 
peace  alike  with  man  and  Heaven.  At  length 
the  order  came.  “ Now,  my  beloved  brothers, 
beloved  in  the  Lord,  go  forth,”  said  Eleazar, 
with  a noble  exultation  glowing  in  his  coun- 
tenance, “ Quit  ye  like  men ; be  strong ; fear 
not  them  who  can  kill  only  the  body.  Even 
this  night  saw  you  still  in  your  sins — the 
wisdom  that  was  before  all  worlds,  hidden 
from  you — without  a Saviour.  But  He  that 
calleth  light  out  of  darkness,  hath  wrought 
in  you.  The  ear  of  the  Lord  has  not  been 
heavy,  that  he  should  not  hear ; his  hand  has 
not  been  straitened.  He  has  poured  upon 
ycv  that  Spirit  which  is  an  earnest  of  your 


inheritance,  holy,  incorruptible,  eternal  in 
the  heavens.  Now,  sons  of  Abraham,  re- 
deemed of  Christ,  kings  and  priests  of  God 
for  ever;  go,  where  he  is  gone  to  prepare  a 
place  for  you.  Go,  to  the  house  of  many 
mansions.  Go,  to  the  kingdom  of  glory.” 

With  tears  and  blessings,  Eleazar  took 
water,  and  baptized  the  converts.  They 
sang  a hymn,  and  then  rising,  moved  towards 
the  gate,  the  soldiers  standing  at  a distance, 
and  looking  on  at  this  more  than  heroic  re- 
signation with  eyes  of  respect  and  wonder. 
But  I could  restrain  myself  no  longer.  I 
stopped  Eleazar ; he  instantly  recognized 
me ; and  the  color  that  shot  through  his 
cheek  showed  that  with  me  came  a tide  of 
memory.  I was  speechless;  I embraced 
him : tears  of  old  friendship  dimmed  my  eyes. 
He  was  overpowered,  like  myself,  and  could 
only  exclaim — “ Salathiel ; my  brother, — 
what  misfortune  has  brought  you  here  1 — But 
you  are  not  to  diel — Where  is  Miriam, — 
where  are  your  children  1 — You  cannot  be  a 
prisoner  1 — Fly  from  this  dreadful  place.” 

“Never,  my  brother;  unless  I can  save 
you.  The  tyrants  shall  have  the  blood  of  both 
upon  their  heads.” 

“ This  is  madness,  Salathiel — impiety  ;!  oh 
that  you  were  this  moment  even  as  I am — in 
all  but  death.  It  is  your  duty  to  live  ; you 
have  many  ties  to  the  world.  What  have  1 1 
or  what  service  can  I do  the  world,  equal  to 
that  of  showing  in  what  peace  a follower  of 
my  Lord  and  Master  can  die  1 Again,  I say, 
oh  that  you  were  at  this  moment  awake  to 
the  truths,  the  holy  and  imperishable  conso- 
lations, that  make  the  cross  to  me  more  tri- 
umphant than  a throne  !” 

The  theme  was  a painful  one.  He  instant- 
ly saw  my  perturbation,  and  forebore  to  urge 
me.  But  fixing  his  humid  eyes  on  heaven, 
and  with  uplifted  hands,  he  gave  me  his  part- 
ing benediction.  “ May  the  time  come,” 
said  he,  “ when  the  veil  shall  be  taken  away 
from  the  face  of  my  unhappy  kindred,  and  of 
my  undone  country ! When  the  days  of  the 
desolation  of  Israel  come  to  be  accomplished, 
let  her  kneel  before  the  altar — let  her  weep 
in  sackcloth,  and  repent  of  her  iniquities ; 
so  shall  the  son  of  glory  rise  upon  her  once 
more.”  Then,  as  if  a flash  of  knowledge  had 
darted  into  his  soul,  he  fixed  his  solemn  gaze 
on  me.  “ Salathiel,  you  are  not  fit  to  die ; 
pray  that  you  may  not  now  sink  into  the 
grave : you  have  fierce  impulses,  untamed 
passions,  of  whose  power  you  have  yet  no 
conception.  Supplicate  for  length  of  years ; 
rather  endure  all  the  miseries  of  exile  ; be 
alone  upon  the  earth — weary,  wild,  and  deso- 
late : but  pray  that  you  may  not  die,  until 
you  know  the  truths  that  Israel  yet  shall 
j know.  Let  it  be  for  me  to  die,  and  seal  my 
! faith  by  my  .blood.  Let  it  be  for  you  to  live 


174 


Salalhiel. 


and  seal  it  by  your  penitence.  But  live  in 
hope.  Even  on  earth,  a day  bright  beyond 
earthly  splendor;  lovely  beyond  all  the  vis- 
ions of  beauty ; magnificent  and  powerful 
beyond  the  loftiest  thought  of  human  nature, 
shall  come;  and  we,  even  we,  my  brother, 
shall  on  earth  meet  again.” 


CHAPTER  LI. 

There  was  a thrilling  influence  in  the 
words  of  Eleazar,  that  left  me  without  reply; 
and  for  a while  I stood  absorbed.  When  II 
raised  my  eyes  again,  I saw  him  following 
the  melancholy  train  down  the  valley  of 
slaughter.  I rushed  after  him.  He  would 
not  listen  to  my  entreaties  ; he  would  suffer 
no  ransom  to  be  offered  for  his  life.  I sup- 
plicated the  tribune  of  the  escort  for  a mo- 
ment’s delay,  until  I could  solicit  mercy  from 
Titus.  The  officer,  himself  deeply  pained 
by  the  service  on  which  he  was  ordered, 
had  no  authority,  but  sent  a centurion  with 
me  to  the  general  commanding. 

I hurried  my  guide  through  the  immense 
force,  drawn  out  to  witness  the  offering  to 
the  shades  of  the  Roman  senators  and  soldiers. 
The  morning  was  stormy;  and  driving  clouds 
covering  the  ridges  of  the  hills,  darkened  the 
feeble  dawn  so  much,  that  torches  were  ne- 
cessary to  direct  the  movement  of  the  troops. 
The  wind  came  howling  through  the  spears 
and  standards  ; but  with  it  came  the  fiercer 
sounds  of  human  agony.  As  we  reached  the 
entrance  of  the  valley,  the  centurion  pointed 
to  the  height  where  the  general  stood,  in  the 
midst  of  a group  of  mounted  officers  wrapped 
.n  their  cloaks,  against  the  sleet  that  came 
furiously  whirling  from  the  hills. 

I darted  up  the  steep  with  a rapidity  that 
left  my  companion  far  below,  and  implored 
the  Roman  humanity  for  my  countrymen,  and 
for  my  noble  and  innocent  brother.  On  my 
knee,  on  the  knee  that  I had  never  before 
bowed  to  man,  I besought  the  illustrious  son 
of  Vespasian  to  spare  men,  “ whose  only 
crime  was  that  of  having  defended  their 
country.”  I adjured  the  heir  of  the  empire 
“ to  rescue  from  an  ignominious  fate,  subjects 
driven  into  revolt  only  by  violences,  which 
he  would  be  the  first  to  disown.  If,”  said  I, 

“ you  demand  money  for  the  lives  of  my 
countrymen,  it  shall  be  given  even  to  our 
last  ounce  of  silver  ; if  you  would  have  terri-i 
tory,  we  will  give  up  our  lands,  and  go  forth! 
exiles.  If  you  must  have  life  for  life,  take] 
mine,  and  let  my  brother  go  free  !” 

The  general  slowly  removed  the  cloak; 
which  covered  him  to  the  eyes;  and  Ce3tiusi 
was  before  me.  “So,”  said  he,  with  a ma-j 
lignant  smile,  “ you  can  kneel,  Jew,  and  play' 


the  rhetorician : however,  as  you  are  here, 
your  having  escaped  me  once,  is  no  reason 
why  you  should  laugh  at  justice  a second 
time.  Here,  Torquatus,”  he  beckoned  to  an 
officer,  “ take  this  rebel  to  the  crosses;  and 
bring  me  an  account  of  the  way  in  which  he 
behaves.  You  see,  Jew,  that  I have  some 
care  of  your  reputation.  A fellow  careless 
as  you  are,  would  probably  have  died  in  some 
paltry  skirmish;  but  you  shall  now  figure 
before  your  countrymen,  as  a patriot  should, 
and  die  with  the  honors  of  a native  hero.” 

I disdained  to  answer.  The  officer  came 
up,  attended  by  some  spearmen  ; and  I was 
led  to  the  valley.  A snow-storm  of  extra- 
ordinary violence,  long  gathering  on  the  sky, 
broke  forth  as  I descended,  and  it  was  only 
by  grasping  the  rocks  and  shrubs  on  the  side 
of  the  declivity  that  we  could  avoid  being 
blown  away.  We  staggered  along'  blinded 
and  half-frozen.  The  storm  fell  heavily  upon 
the  legions,  and  the  heights  were  quickly 
abandoned  for  the  shelter  of  the  valley.  The 
valley  itself  was  a sheet  of  snow,  tom  up  by 
fierce  blasts  that  drifted  it  hazardously  upon 
the  troops,  and  threw  every  thing  into  con- 
fusion. 

But  the  sight  that  opened  on  me  as  I passed 
the  first  gorge,  effaced  storm,  and  soldiery, 
and  might  have  effaced  the  world  from  my 
mind.  Through  the  whole  extent  of  the 
huge,  naked,  and  rocky  hollow,  were  planted 
crosses.  The  ravine,  dark  even  in  sun-shine, 
was  now  black  as  midnight;  and  its  only 
light  was  from  the  scattered  torches,  and  the 
fires  into  which  the  bodies  of  the  victims 
were  flung  as  they  died,  to  make  room  for 
others.  On  those  crosses  hung  hundreds, 
writhing  in  miseries,  made  only  to  show  the 
hideous  capability  of  suffering  that  exists  in 
our  frame.  I was  instantly  recognized,  and 
many  a hand  was  stretched  out  to  me,  im- 
ploring that  I should  mercifully  hasten  death. 
I heard  my  name  called  on,  as  their  prince, 
their  leader,  their  countryman,  to  remember 
and  revenge.  Incensed  and  horror-struck,  I 
raved  at  the  legionaries  and  their  tyrant 
master;  until  I sank  upon  the  ground  in  ex- 
haustion, covering  my  head  with  my  mantle, 
that  I might  exclude  alike  sight  and  sound. 

A voice  at  my  side  aroused  me ; a cross 
had  just  been  fixed  on  the  spot,  and  at  its 
foot  stood,  preparing  for  death,  the  man  who 
had  spoken.  I looked  upon  his  face,  and  gave 
an  involuntary  cry.  For  seven-and-thirty 
years  I had  not  seen  that  face ; but  I had  seen 
it  on  a night  never  to  be  erased  from  my  re- 
membrance, or  my  soul.  I knew  every  fea- 
ture of  it  through  all  the  changes  of  years. 

Manhood  had  passed  into  age ; the  bold 
and  sanguine  countenance  was  furrowed  with 
cares  and  crimes.  But  I knew  at  once  the 
man  who  had  on  that  night  been  foremost  at 


Salathiel. 


175 


my  call ; the  daring  rabble  leader,  who  had : 
first  shouted  at  my  fatal  summons;  and  mad- 
dened the  multitude,  as  I had  maddened  my- 
self and  him.  He  turned  his  glance  upon 
me  at  the  cry.  His  pale  visage  grew  black 
as  death.  The  past  flashed  upon  his  soul. 
He  shook  from  head  to  foot  with  keen  con- 
vulsion. He  gasped,  and  tried  to  speak,  but 
no  words  came.  He  beat  his  breast  wildly, 
and  pointed  to  the  cross  with  dreadful  mean- 
ing. The  executioner,  a brutal  slave,  scoffed 
at  him  as  a dastard.  He  heard  nothing ; but 
with  his  palid  eyes  staring  on  me,  and  his 
hand  pointed  upwards,  stood  stiffening.  Life 
departed  as  he  stood  ! The  executioner,  im- 
patient, laid  his  grasp  upon  him ; but  he  was 
beyond  the  power  of  man.  He  fell  backward 
like  a pillar  of  stone. 

I started  from  the  corpse,  and,  utterly  un- 
nerved, looked  wildly  round  for  some  way  of 
escape  from  this  scene  of  despair.  As  I tried 
to  penetrate  the  dusk  towards  the  bottom  of 
the  valley,  Eleazar  was  seen  at  the  head  of 
his  little  band,  standing  at  the  foot  of  a cross, 
surrounded  by  soldiers.  I thought  no  more 
of  safety  ; and,  plunging  into  the  valley,  forced 
my  way  through  the  rocks  and  snow-drifts,  till 
I reached  the  foot  of  the  declivity  on  which 
this  true  hero  was  about  to  die.  But  there 
an  impenetrable  fence  of  spears  stopped  me. 

I implored,  execrated,  struggled ; Eleazar’s 
eye  fell  on  me  ; and  the  smile  on  his  uplifted 
countenance  showed  at  once  how  much  he 
thanked  me,  and  how  calmly  he  was  prepared 
to  bid  the  world  farewell.  My  struggles 
were  useless,  and  I had  but  one  resource 
more. 

I flew,  with  a swiftness  that  baffled  pursuit, 
to  the  camp;  passed  the  intrenchments  by 
the  breaches  left  since  the  battle  ; and,  before 
I could  be  stopped  or  questioned,  entered  the 
tent  of  Titus. 

The  supper  lamps  were  burning,  and  three 
stately-looking  men  still  lingered  over  the  I 
table,  one  of  the  few  unpopular  luxuries  of  j 
the  general.  A large  packet  of  letters  were! 
being  distributed  by  a page;  and,  while  I 
stood  in  the  shade  of  the  tent-curtain  a mo- 
ment until  I should  ascertain  whether  Titus 
was  among  the  three,  I was  made  the  un- 
willing sharer  of  the  secrets  of  Rome. 

“ All  is  going  on  well,”  said  one  of  the 
readers.  “Here  that  truest  of  courtiers,  my 
showy  friend  Statilius,  sends,  compiled  by 
his  own  hand,  an  endless  list  of  the  pomps 
and  processions,  games  and  congratulations, 
in  the  Emperor’s  progress  through  Italy. 
The  intelligence  is  not  the  newest  in  the 
world.  But  it  would  break  my  courtly 
friend’s  heart  to  think  that  he  had  not  the 
happiness  of  giving  it  first.  So  let  him  think, 1 
and  so  let  him  worship  the  rising  sun,  until 
another  dynasty  comes,  and  he  discovers  that 


if  this  sun  have  risen  in  the  east,  a much 
finer  one  may  rise  in  the  west.  Thus  runs 
the  world.” 

“ War  with  the  Britons,”  read  another. 
“ They  have  marched  a hundred  of  their 
naked  clans  from  the  hills.  The  remnant 
of  the  Druids  are  busy  again  with  their  in- 
cantations; and  it  is  more  than  suspected 
that  the  whole  is  stirred  up  by  our  incom- 
parable governor  of  western  Gaul,  who  af- 
fects the  diadem,  like  all  the  ridiculous  gov- 
ernors of  the  age.” 

“ Well,  then,  he  shall  have  his  wish,” 
said  a third.  “ The  Emperor  will  give  him, 
of  course,  a court  fit  for  a rebel : his  council, 
lictors;  and  his  palace,  a dungeon  in  the 
Mamertine.  But,  as  to  the  Britons,  I doubt 
their  caring  one  of  their  own  leather  pence 
whether  he  wears  the  diadem  or  halter.  The 
savages  have  probably  been  vexed  by  some 
new  attempt  to  squeeze  money  from  them — 
the  quickest  way  to  try  the  national  sensibili- 
ties. They  have  the  spirit  of  trade  in  them 
already,  and  are  as  keen  in  the  barter  of  their 
wolf  skins  and  bulls’  hides,  as  if  they  supplied 
the  world  with  Tyrian  canopies  and  Indian 
pearls.” 

“A  letter  from  Sempronius! — By  Venus, 
its  exquisite  intaglio  and  elaborate  perfumes 
would  betray  it  all  the  world  over ; full  of 
scandals,  as  usual,  and  frill  of  discontent. 
He  seems  quite  dismantled  ; and  complains 
that — the  sex  are  growing  ugly,  the  seasons 
comfortless,  and  mankind  dull ; a certain 
sign  that  my  emptiest  of  friends,  and  the  best 
dresser  in  Italy,  is  growing  old.” 

“ So  much  the  better  for  his  circle.  As 
for  himself,  while  he  can  flourish  in  curls  and 
calumny,  he  will  be  happy,  the  true  man  of 
high  life,  a prey  to  tailors,  a figure  for  actors 
to  burlesque,  and  an  inveterate  weariness  to 
the  world.” 

“ But  here  is  a despatch  from  the  Emperor, 
and,  unfortunately  for  human  eyes,  written 
in  his  own,  most  unreadable  hand.”  The 
speaker  stood  up  to  the  lamp,  and  gave  me 
an  opportunity  of  observing  him.  His  coun- 
tenance and  figure  struck  me,  as  what  no 
other  word  could  express  than — princely. 
The  features  were  handsome,  and  strongly 
marked  Italian  ; and  the  form,  though  tend- 
ing to  breadth,  and  rather  under  the  usual 
stature,  was  eminently  dignified.  His  voice 
too  was  remarkable.  I never  heard  one  that 
more  completely  united  softness  and  ma- 
jesty. 

Here  I could  have  but  the  shadow  of  a 
doubt  that  I had  found  Titus  ; yet  I had  that 
shadow.  Our  meeting  in  the  field,  where 
we  fought  hand  to  hand,  gave  me  no  recol- 
lection of  the  man  before  me.  Titus  might 
not  even  be  among  the  three ; and  nothing 
but  seizure  and  ruin  could  be  the  conse- 


176 


Salathiel. 


quence  of  discovering  myself  to  subordi- 
nates. 

“ Good  news,  it  is  to  be  hoped,”  said  both 
the  listeners  together,  as  they  deferentially 
watched  his  perusal. 

“ None  whatever ; a mere  private  chroni- 
cle, in  the  Emperor’s  usual  style ; all  kinds 
of  oddities  together.  He  laughs  at  me  for 
complaining  of  want  of  intelligence  from 
Rome,  and  says  that,  unless  we  send  him 
some,  the  politicians  of  the  city  will  die  of 
emptiness,  or  raise  a rebellion  ; and  that  he 
is  the  most  ill-used  personage  in  the  empire, 
in  being  obliged  to  supply  brains  for  so  many 
blockheads,  and  keep  up  the  reputation  of  an 
honest  man,  in  the  midst  of  so  many  knaves. 
But  he  mentions,  and  for  that  I am  deeply 
grateful,  that  he  has  just  erected  the  golden 
statue,  which  I vowed  so  long  ago  to  the 
memory  of  my  unfortunate  friend  Britanni- 
cus  ; and  is  about  to  dedicate  an  ivory  eques- 
trian one  to  him,  to  be  placed  in  the  Circus. 
He  concludes  the  epistle  with  saying  that, 
unless  the  British  insurrection  speedily  blows 
over,  he  shall  be  a beggar,  and  must  turn  tri- 
bune for  a livelihood;  defends  his  impracti- 
cable manuscript,  which,  he  says,  I am  imi- 
tating as  fast  as  I can  ; and  repeats  his  old 
jest,  that — if  I were  not  born  to  be  a prince 
and  an  idler,  I might  have  made  my  bread 
by  my  talents  for  forgery.”  His  hearers  re- 
paid the  imperial  merriment  by  its  full  tri- 
bute of  loyal  laughter. 

Doubt  was  now  at  an  end,  and  I advanced. 
My  step  roused  the  party,  and  they  started 
up,  drawing  their  swords.  But  the  quick  eye 
of  Titus  recognized  me;  and  satisfying  his 
companions  by  a gesture,  I heard  him  pro- 
nounce to  them  ; “ My  antagonist,  the  prince 
of  Naphtali.”  There  was  no  time  for  cere- 
mony ; and  I addressed  hirn  at  once. 

“ Son  of  Vespasian,  you  are  a soldier,  and 
know  what  is  due  to  the  brave;  I come  to 
solicit  your  mercy  ; it  is  the  first  time  that  I 
ever  stooped  to  solicit  man.  My  brother,  a 
chieftain  of  Israel,  is  in  your  hands,  con- 
demned to  the  horrid  death  of  the  cross  ; he 
is  virtuous,  brave,  and  noble;  save  him,  and 
you  will  do  an  act  of  justice  more  honorable 
to  your  name  than  the  bloodiest  victory.” 

Titus  looked  at  me  in  silence,  and  evident- 
ly perplexed ; then  returned  to  his  chair,  and 
having  consulted  with  his  companions,  hesi- 
tatingly pronounced : “ Prince,  you  know 
not  what  you  have  asked.  1 am  bound,  like 
others,  by  the  Emperor’s  commands;  and  they 
strictly  are,  that  none  of  your  countrymen, 
taken  after  the  offer  of  peace,  must  live.” 

“ Hear  this,  God  of  Israel,”  I cried,  “King 
of  vengeance,  hear  and  remember.” 

“ You  are  rash,  prince,”  said  Titus,  grave- 
ly; “yet  1 can  forgive  your  national  temper. 
With  others,  even  your  venturing  here  might 


bring  you  into  hazard.  But,  the  perfidity  of 
, your  people  makes  truce  and  treaty  impossi- 
' ble.  They  leave  me  no  alternative.  I lament 
the  necessity.  It  is  the  desire  of  the  illus- 
trious Vespasian  to  reign  in  peace.  But  this 
is  now  at  an  end.” 

He  paused,  and  advancing  towards  me,  of- 
fered his  hand,  with  the  words,  “I  know  that 
there  are  brave  and  high-minded  men  among 
your  nation.  I have  been  astonished  at  the 
valor,  nay,  I will  call  it,  the  daring  and  he- 
roic contempt  of  suffering  and  death,  that 
this  siege  has  already  shown.  I have  been 
witness,  too,”  and  he  smiled,  “of  the  prince 
of  Naphtali’s  prowess  in  the  field,  and  I 
would  most  willingly  have  such  among  my 
friends.”  I waited  for  the  conclusion. 
“ Why  not  come  among  us,”  said  he  ; “ give 
up  resistance  that  must  end  in  ruin;  abandon 
a cause  that  all  the  world  sees  to  be  despe- 
rate ; save  yourself  from  popular  caprice,  the 
violence  of  your  rancorous  factions,  and  the 
final  fall  of  your  city  1 — Be  Caesar’s  friend ; 
and  name  what  life,  possession,  or  employ 
you  will.” 

The  thought  of  deserting  the  cause  of 
Jerusalem  was  profanation.  I drew  back, 
and  looked  at  the  majestic  Roman,  as  if  I saw 
the  original  tempter  at  my  side. 

“Son  of  Vespasian,  I am  at  this  hour  a 
poor  man ; as  I may  in  the  next  be  an  exile 
or  a slave ; I have  ties  to  life  as  strong  as 
ever  bouud  round  the  heart  of  man  ; I stand 
here  a suppliant  for  the  life  of  one  whose  loss 
would  embitter  mine ! Yet,  not  for  wealth 
unlimited,  for  the  safety  of  my  family,  for 
the  life  of  the  noble  victim  that  is  now  stand- 
ing at  the  place  of  torture,  dare  I abandon, 
dare  I think  the  impious  thought  of  abandon- 
ing, the  cause  of  the  City  of  Holiness.” 

The  picture  of  her  ruin  rose  before  my 
eyes,  and  tears  forced  their  way ; my  strength 
was  dissolved ; my  voice  was  choked.  The 
Romans  fixed  their  looks  on  the  ground,  af- 
fected by  the  sincerity  of  a soldier’s  sorrow. 
I took  the  hand  that  was  again  offered. 

“ Titus ! in  the  name  of  that  Being,  to 
whom  the  wisdom  of  earth  is  folly,  I adjure 
you  to  beware.  Jerusalem  is  sacred.  Her 
crimes  have  often  wrought  her  misery — often 
has  she  been  trampled  by  the  armies  of  the 
stranger.  But  she  is  still  the  City  of  the 
Omnipotent;  and  never  was  blow  inflicted 
on  her  by  man  that  was  not  terribly  repaid. 

“The  Assyrian  came,  the  mightiest  power 
of  the  world  ; he  plundered  her  temple,  and 
led  her  people  into  captivity.  How  long  was 
it  before  his  empire  was  a dream,  his  dynasty 
extinguished  in  hlood,  and  an  enemy  on  his 
■ throne  ! — The  Persian  came ; from  her  pro- 
tector he  turned  into  her  oppressor ; and  his 
empire  was  swept  away  like  the  dust  of  the 
I desert! — The  Syrian  smote  her;  the  smiter 


Salathiel. 


Ill 


died  in  agonies  of  remorse;  and  where  is  his 
kingdom  now  1 — The  Egyptian  smote  her ; 
and  who  now  sits  on  the  throne  of  the  Ptole- 
mies "? — Pompey  came ; the  invincible,  the 
conqueror  of  a thousand  cities;  the  light  of 
Rome;  the  lord  of  Asia,  riding  on  the  very 
wings  of  victory.  But  he  profaned  her  Tem- 
ple : and  from  that  hour  lie  went  down — 
down,  like  a mill-stone  plunged  into  the 
ocean ! Blind  counsel,  rash  ambition,  wo- 
manish fears,  were  upon  the  great  statesman 
and  warrior  of  Rome.  Where  does  he  sleep"! 
What  sands  were  colored  w’ith  his  blood  1 
The  universal  conqueror  died  a slave,  by  the 
hands  of  a slave  ! — Crassus  came  at  the  head 
of  the  legions ; he  plundered  the  sacred  ves- 
sels of  the  sanctuary.  Vengeance  followed 
him,  and  he  was  cursed  by  the  curse  of  God. 
Where  are  the  bones  of  the  robber  and  his 
host"!  Go,  tear  them  from  the  jaws  of  the 
lion  and  the  wolf  of  Parthia — their  fitting 
tomb ! 

“ You,  too,  son  of  Vespasian,  may  be  com- 
missioned for  the  punishment  of  a stiff-neck- 
ed and  rebellious  people.  You  may  scourge 
our  naked  vice  by  the  force  of  arms ; and 
then  you  may  return  to  your  own  land  exult- 
ing in  the  conquest  of  the  fiercest  enemy  of 
Rome.  But  shall  you  escape  the  common 
fate  of  the  instrument  of  evil '! — shall  you  see 
a peaceful  old  age"! — shall  a son  of  yours 
ever  sit  upon  the  throne"! — shall  not  rather 
some  monster  of  your  blood  efface  the  mem- 
ory of  your  virtues,  and  make  Rome,  in  bit- 
terness of  soul,  curse  the  Flavian  name"!” 

Titus  grew  pale  ; and  shuddering,  covered 
his  eyes  with  his  mantle,  as  he  sat.  His 
companions  stood  gazing  on  me  with  the 
awed  aspect  of  men  gazing  on  the  messenger 
of  fate.  “ Spare  Eleazar,”  was  all  that  I 
could  utter.  Titus  made  a sign  to  the  page ; 
who  flew  to  bear,  if  not  too  late,  the  orders 
of  mercy. 

While  we  continued  in  a silence  that  none 
of  us  felt  inclined  to  break,  a door  opened  be- 
nind  me.  and  an  officer  entered.  It  was  Sep- 
timius.  I seized  him  by  the  throat.  “Vil- 
lain ! give  me  back  my  child ; base  hypo- 
crite ! give  up  my  innocent  daughter.  Where 
have  you  taken  her "!  Lead  me  to  her,  or 
die.”  , 

Titus  rose  in  evident  surprise  and  indigna- 
tion. “What  do  I hear,  Septimius!  have 
you  been  guilty  of  this  offence"!  Prince,  let 
iim  loose,  until  his  General  shall  hear  what 
he  has  to  say  for  himself.” 

Septimius  affected  the  most  extreme  and 
easy  ignorance.  “ Most  noble  Titus,  I have 
to  thank  you  for  having  saved  my  neck  from 
the  grasp  of  this  hasty  personage ; but,  be- 
yond that,  I have  nothing  to  say  for  myself, 
or  any  one  else.  I never  saw  this  man  be- 
fore. I know  no  more  of  his  daughter  than 


of  the  queen  of  Abyssinia,  or  the  three-form- 
ed Diana : and,  by  the  goddess  I swear,  that 
I believe  him  to  be  perfectly  under  her  in- 
fluence ; and  either  a lunatic,  or  a most  ex- 
cellent actor.  Be  honest,  Jew,  if  you  can, 
and  acknowledge  that  you  never  saw  me  be- 
fore in  your  life.” 

I stood  in  astonishment ; his  effrontery 
struck  me  dumb.  “ You  perceive,  most  noble 
Titus,”  he  went  on,  “ how  a plain  question 
puts  an  end  to  this  public  accuser’s  charges. 
But,  in  his  present  state,  whether  affected  or 
real,  he  should  not  be  suffered  to  go  at  large : 
suffer  me  to  send  him  to  my  quarters,  where 
I he  shall  be  taken  sufficient  care  of,  until  we 
at  least  find  out  what  brought  him  here.” 

“ Ingrate,”  I exclaimed,  “ you  make  me 
hate  human  nature  ; is  this  my  return  "!  bet- 
ter that  I had  left  you  to  be  trampled  like  the 
viper  that  you  are.” 

The  dark  eye  of  the  general,  fixed  on  Sep- 
timius, seemed  to  require  a graver  explana- 
tion. 

“ Ingrate,”  retorted  he.  “ By  Jupiter,  the 
fellow’s  insolence  is  superb.  For  what  should 
I be  grateful  1 but  for  my  escape  from  his  de- 
testable hands ; or,  perhaps  he  means  those 
of  his  countrymen.  Very  probably  he  figured 
among  the  rabble  that  would  have  murdered 
me,  as  they  did  the  rest  of  us: — grateful, 
yes,  I ought  to  be,  for  an  exhibition  of  human 
villainy  that  I might  search  the  world  through 
without  seeing  again;  or,  for  the  lesson, 
never  to  venture  within  his  walls  on  the 
faith  of  the  traitors  that  hold  them.  But,  let 
me  be  allowed  to  say,  most  noble  Titus,  that 
you  condescend  too  much  in  listening  to  any 
of  this  rabble  ; nay,  that  you  hazard  the  safe- 
ty of  the  state  in  hazarding  your  person  with- 
in the  reach  of  one  of  a race  of  assassins.” 

Titus  smiled,  and  waved  back  his  compan- 
ions, who,  on  the  surmise,  were  approaching 
him. 

“ Let  me  be  honored  with  your  commands,” 
urged  Septiinius,  “ to  take  this  person  in 
charge  : felon,  or  insane,  I shall  speedily  put 
him  in  the  way  of  cure.” 

A tribune,  breathless  with  haste,  came  in 
at  the  moment  with  a letter,  which  he  gave 
to  Titus;  and  retired  to  a distant  part  of  the 
tent  to  await  the  answer.  The  color  rose  in 
the  Roman’s  cheek  as  he  looked  over  the 
paper;  he  showed  it  to  his  companions,  and 
then  put  it  into  my  hand.  I read  the  words — 

“ An  assassin,  hired  by  the  chiefs  of  Jeru- 
salem, yesterday  passed  the  gates.  His  ob- 
ject is  the  life  of  the  Roman  general.  He 
goes  under  pretence  of  recovering  one  of  his 
[family,  supposed  to  be  carried  off  from  the 
city,  but  who  has  never  left  his  house.  He 
has  communications  with  the  camp,  by  which 
he  can  enter  at  pleasure  ; and  the  noble  Ti 
i tus  cannot  be  too  much  on  his  guard.” 


178 


Salathiel. 


The  note  was  in  an  inclosure  from  Cestius, 
stating'  that  it  had  been  just  transmitted  to 
him  from  a high  authority  in  Jerusalem. 

I flung  it  on  the  ground  with  the  scorn  due 
to  such  an  accusation,  declaring  that  it  was 
unnecessary  for  “my  enemy  Cestius  to  have 
put  his  name  to  a document  which  so  easily 
revealed  its  writer.” 

“ You,  of  course,  Septimius,”  said  the  gen- 
eral, settling  his  penetrating  gaze  on  him, 
“could  know  nothing  of  this  letter  1” 

Septimius  entered  on  his  defence  with 
seriousness  ; and  showed  that,  from  the  time 
and  circumstances,  no  share  in  it  could  be 
attached  to  him.  Titus  retired  a few  steps, 
and  having  consulted  with  the  officers,  who 
I perceived  were  unanimous  for  my  being  in- 
stantly put  to  death,  addressed  me  in  that 
grave  and  silver-toned  voice  which  charac- 
terized the  singular  composure  of  his  nature. 

“ We  have  exchanged  blows  and  pledges 
of  honor,  prince;  and  I will  not  suffer  myself 
to  believe  that  a man  of  your  rank  and  sol- 
diership could  stoop  to  the  crime  charged 
here.  In  truth,  were  none  but  personal  con- 
sideration to  be  in  question,  I should  instant- 
ly set  you  free.  But  there  are  weighty  in- 
terests connected  with  my  life,  which  make 
it  seem  fitting  to  my  friends  and  advisers 
that,  in  all  cases,  precautions  should  be  taken, 
which  otherwise  I should  disdain.  To  satis- 
fy their  minds,  and  the  spirit  of  the  Emperor’s 
orders,  I must  detain  you  for  a few  days. 
Your  treatment  shall  be  honorable.” 

Septimius  advanced  again  to  demand  my 
custody.  But  a look  repelled  the  request, 
and  I was  directed  to  follow  one  of  the  secre- 
taries of  Titus. 


CHAPTER  LII. 

A troop  of  cavalry  were  at  the  tent  door. 
We  set  off  through  the  storm;  and,  a few 
miles  from  the  camp,  reached  a large  build- 
ing, peopled  with  a host  of  high  functionaries, 
attached  to  Titus,  as  governor  of  Judea. 

“You  are  a prodigious  favorite  with  the 
general,”  said  my  companion,  as  we  passed 
through  a range  of  magnificent  rooms  fur- 
nished with  Italian  luxury;  “or  he  would 
never  have  sent  you  here.  He  had  these 
chambers  furnished  for  his  own  residence,  but 
your  countrymen  have  kept  him  too  busy ; and 
for  the  last  month  he  is  indebted  to  you  for 
sleeping  under  canvass.” 

I observed  that  “ peace  was  the  first  wish 
of  my  heart.  But  that  no  people  could  be 
reproached  with  contending  too  boldly  for 
freedom.” 

“ The  sentiment  is  Roman,”  was  the  re- 
ply. “But  let  us  come  to  the  fact.  Titus, 


once  fixed  in  the  government,  would  be 
worth  all  the  fantasies  that  ever  fed  the  de- 
claimers  on  independence.  His  character  is 
peace ; and  if  he  ever  come  to  the  empire, 
he  will  make  the  first  of  monarchs.  You 
should  try  him,  and  reap  the  first  fruits  of  his 
talent  for  making  people  happy.  There; 
look  round  this  room : you  see  every  panel 
hung  with  a picture,  a lyre,  or  a volume ; 
what  does  that  tell  1” 

“ Certainly  not  the  habits  of  a soldier  ; yet 
he  is  distinguished  in  the  field.” 

“ No  man  more.  There  is  not  a rider  in 
the  legions  that  can  sit  a horse,  or  manage  a 
lance  better.  He  has  the  talents  of  a gene- 
ral besides;  and  more  than  all,  he  has  the 
most  iron  perseverance  that  ever  dwelt  in  the 
bosom  of  man.  If  the  two  armies  were  to 
slaughter  each  other  until  there  was  but  half 
a dozen  spearmen  left  between  them,  Titus 
would  head  his  remnant,  and  battle  it  out  till 
he  died.  But  whether  it  is  nature,  or  the 
poison  that  he  drank  with  Britannicus,  he 
wants  the  eternal  vividness  of  his  father. 
Aye,  there  was  the  soldier  for  the  legions. 
Look,  prince,  at  this  picture,  and  tell  me 
what  you  think  of  the  countenance.” 

He  drew  aside  the  curtain  that  covered  a 
superb  equestrian  portrait  of  the  Emperor. 

I saw  a countenance  of  incomparable 
shrewdness,  eccentricity,  and  self-enjoyment. 
Every  feature  told  the  same  tale,  from  the 
rounded  and  dimpled  chin  to  the  broad  and 
deeply  veined  forehead,  overhung  with  its 
rough  mat  of  hair.  The  hooked  nose,  the 
deep  wrinkles  about  the  lips,  the  thick  dark 
eyebrow,  obliquely  raised,  as  if  some  new 
jest  was  gathering,  showed  the  perpetual  hu- 
morist. But  the  eye  beneath  that  brow — an 
orb  black  as  charcoal,  with  a spot  of  intense 
brightness  in  the  centre,  as  if  a breath  could 
turn  that  coal  into  flame — belonged  to  the 
supreme  sagacity  and  determination  that 
had  raised  Vespasian  from  a cottage  to  the 
throne. 

The  secretary,  whose  jovial  character 
strongly  resembled  that  of  the  object  of  his 
panegyric,  could  not  restrain  his  admiration. 
“ There,”  said  he,  “ is  the  man  who  has 
fought  more  battles,  said  more  things,  and 
taken  less  physic,  than  any  emperor  that  ever 
wore  the  diadem.  I served  with  him  from 
decurion  up  to  tribune ; and  he  was  always 
the  same  ; active,  brave,  and  laughing  from 
morn  till  night.  Old  as  he  is,  day-light 
never  finds  him  in  his  bed.  He  rides,  swims, 
runs,  outjests  every  body  ; and  frowns  at 
nothing  on  earth,  but  an  old  woman  and  a 
physician.  He  loves  money,  ’tis  true  ; but 
what  he  squeezes  from  the  overgrown,  he 
scatters  like  a prince.  But  his  mirth  is  inex- 
haustible ; a little  rough,  so  much  for  his 
camp  education;  but  the  most  curious  mix- 


Saluthiel. 


179 


ture  of  justice,  spleen,  and  pleasantry  in  the' 
world.”  My  companion’s  memory  teemed 
with  examples. 

— “ An  Alexandrian  governor  was  ordered 
to  Rome  to  account  for  a long  course  of  ex- 
tortion : immediately  on  his  arrival  he  pre- 
tended to  be  taken  violently  ill ; which  of 
course  put  off  the  inquiry.  The  Emperor 
heard  of  this;  expressed  the  greatest  interest 
in  so  meritorious  a public  servant;  paid  him 
a visit  the  next  day  as  a physician ; ordered 
him  a variety  of  medicines,  which  the  un- 
fortunate governor  was  compelled  to  take ; 
renewed  his  visit  regularly  every  day,  and 
every  day  charged  him  an  enormous  fee. 
Beggary  stared  the  governor  in  the  face ; and 
never  was  a complication  of  disorders  so 
rapidly  cured. 

— “ I was  riding  out  with  him  one  day,  a 
few  miles  from  Rome,  when  we  saw  a fellow 
beating  his  mule  cruelly;  and,  on  being  call- 
ed to,  insisting  on  his  right  to  ‘ do  what  he 
would  with  his  own.’  I was  indignant,  and 
would  have  fought  the  mule’s  quarrel.  But 
the  Emperor  laughed  at  my  zeal ; and  after 
some  jesting  with  the  brutal  owner  bought 
the  mule,  only  annexing  the  condition,  that 
the  fellow  should  lead  it  to  the  stable : — he 
actually  sent  him  with  the  mule  two  hundred 
and  fifty  miles,  on  foot,  to  one  of  his  palaces 
in  Gaul,  with  a lictor  after  him,  to  see  that 
the  contract  was  fairly  performed. 

— “ One  of  his  chamberlains  had  been  so- 
liciting a place  about  court  for,  as  he  said, 
his  brother.  The  Emperor  found  out  the 
fact,  that  it  was  for  a stranger,  who  was  to 
lay  down  a large  sum.  He  sent  for  the 
stranger,  ratified  the  bargain,  gave  the  place, 
and  put  the  money  in  his  own  pocket.  The 
chamberlain  was  in  great  alarm  on  meeting 
the  Emperor  some  days  after.  ‘ Your  dejec- 
tion is  natural  enough,’  said  Vespasian,  ‘as 
you  have  so  lately  lost  your  brother ; but 
then,  you  should  wish  me  joy,  for  he  has  be- 
come mine.’ 

“ By  the  altar  of  Momus,  and  the  brass 
beard  of  the  god  Ridiculus,  I could  tell  you 
a hundred  things  of  the  same  kind,”  said  the 
jovial  and  inexhaustible  secretary.  “Take 
but  one  more.” 

— “ One  of  our  great  patricians,  an  ^Emi- 
lian,  and  as  vain  and  insolent  a beast  as  lives, 
had  ordered  a quantity  of  particularly  striped 
cloth,  which  it  cost  the  merchant  infinite 
pains  to  procure.  But  the  great  man’s  taste 
had  altered  in  the  meantime,  and  he  return- 
ed the  cloth  without  ceremony,  threatening, 
besides,  that,  if  the  merchant  made  any  clam- 
ors on  the  subject,  his  payment  should  be  six 
months’  work  in  the  slave-mill. 

“ The  man,  on  the  verge  of  ruin,  came, 
tearing  his  hair  and  bursting  with  rage,  to 
lay  his  complaint  before  the  Emperor ; who, , 


however,  plainly  told  him  that  there  was  no 
remedy;  but  desired  him  to  send  a dress  of 
the  cloth  to  the  palace.  Within  the  week, 
the  patrician  was  honored  with  a message, 
that  the  Emperor  would  dine  with  him,  and 
the  message  was  accompanied  with  the  dress, 
and  an  intimation  that  Vespasian  wished  to 
make  it  popular.  Rome  was  instantly  ran- 
sacked for  the  cloth ; but  not  a yard  of  it  was 
to  be  found  but  in  the  single  merchant’s 
hands.  The  patrician’s  household  must  be 
equipped  in  it,  cost  what  it  would.  The  deal- 
er, in  pleasant  revenge,  charged  ten  times 
the  value,  and  his  fortune  was  made  in  a 
day. 

“ Now  Titus,  with  many  a noble  quality, 
is  altogether  another  man.  He  abhors  the 
Emperor’s  rough-hewn  jocularity ; he  speaks 
Greek  better  than  the  Emperor  does  his  own 
tongue,  is  a poet,  and  a clever  one  besides, 
in  both  languages ; extemporizes  verse  with 
elegance ; is  no  mean  performer  on  the  lyre ; 
sings  ; is  a picture-lover,  and  so  forth.  I be- 
lieve from  my  soul  that,  with  all  his  talents 
for  war  and  government,  he  would  rather 
spend  his  day  over  books,  and  his  evenings 
among  poets  and  philosophers,  or  telling  Ita- 
lian tales  to  the  ears  of  some  of  your  brilliant 
orientals,  than  ride  over  the  world  at  the 
head  of  the  legions.  And  now,”  said  my 
open-hearted  guide,  “having  betrayed  court 
secrets  enough  for  one  day,  I must  leave  you 
and  return  to  the  camp.  Here  you  will 
spend  your  time  as  you  please;  until  some 
decision  is  come  to.  The  household  is  at 
your  service,  and  the  officer  in  command  will 
attend  your  orders  ; — farewell !” 

Captivity  is  wretchedness,  even  if  the  cap- 
tive tread  on  cloth  of  gold.  My  treatment 
was  imperial;  a banquet  that  might  have 
feasted  a Roman  epicure,  was  laid  before  me ; 
a crowd  of  attendants,  sumptuously  habited, 
waited  round  the  table;  music  played,  per- 
fumes burned ; the  whole  ceremonial  of 
princely  luxury  was  gone  through,  as  if  Titus 
were  present,  instead  of  his  heart-broken  pris- 
oner. But  to  that  prisoner,  bread  and  water 
with  freedom  would  have  been  the  truer  lux- 
ury. 

I wandered  through  the  spacious  apart- 
ments, dazzled  by  their  splendor,  and  often 
ready  to  ask,  “ Can  man  be  unhappy  in  the 
midst  of  these  things  ?”  yet,  answering  the 
question  in  the  pangs  of  heart  which  they 
were  so  powerless  to  soothe. 

I took  down  the  richly-blazoned  volumes 
of  the  Western  poets,  and  while,  at  every 
line  that  I unrolled,  I felt  how  much  richer 
were  their  contents  than  the  gold  and  gems 
that  incased  them,  I yet  felt  the  inadequacy 
of  even  their  beauty  and  vigor  to  console  the 
spirit  stricken  by  real  calamity. 

I threw  aside  the  volumes,  and  strayed  to 


180 


Salathiel. 


the  casements,  through  which  the  sunset  be- 
gan to  pour  in  a tide  of  glory.  The  land- 
scape beneath  was  beautiful ; — a peaceful 
valley,  shut  in  with  lofty  eminences,  on  whose 
marble  foreheads  the  sunbeams  wrought  cor- 
onets, as  colored  and  glittering  as  ever  were 
set  with  crysolite  and  ruby.  The  snow  was 
gone  as  rapidly  as  it  had  come;  and  the 
green  earth  in  the  freshness  of  the  bright 
hour  might  almost  be  said  “ to  laugh  and 
sing.”  The  air  came  fanning  and  warm 
from  the  reviving  flowers.  There  was  a light 
and  joyous  beauty  in  even  the  waving  of  the 
shrubs,  as  they  shook  off  the  moisture  in 
sparkles,  at  every  wave ; birds  innumerable 
broke  out  into  song,  and  fluttered  their  little 
wet  wings  with  delight  in  the  sunshine ; and 
the  rivulet,  still  swelled  with  the  shower,  ran 
dimpling  and  gurgling  along,  with  a music 
of  its  own. 

But  the  true  sadness  of  the  soul  is  not  to 
so  scattered  by  the  life  and  loveliness  of  ex- 
ternal things.  I turned  from  the  sun  and 
nature  to  fling  myself  on  my  couch,  and  feel 
that,  where  a man’s  treasure  is,  there  his 
heart  is  also. 

“ What  might  not  be  doing  in  Jerusalem  1 
what  fanatic  violence,  personal  revenge,  or 
public  license  might  not  be  let  loose,  while 
I was  lingering  among  the  costly  vanities  of 
the  Pagan  1 My  enemy,  at  least,  was  there,  in 
the  possession  of  unbridled  authority  and 
the  thought  was  in  itself  a history  of  evil. 

“And  where  was  Esther,  my  beloved,  the 
child  of  my  soul,  the  glowing  and  magnifi- 
cent-minded being,  whose  beauty  and  whose 
thoughts  were  scarcely  mortal  1 Might  she 
not  be  in  the  last  extremity  of  suffering,  help- 
lessly calling  on  her  wretched  father  to  save 
her;  in  the  dungeon,  withering  .with  cold 
and  famine,  and  upbraiding  me  for  having 
forgotten  my  child;  or  in  the  hands  of  the 
robbers  of  the  desert,  and  dragging  her  deli- 
cate and  sinking  form  through  rocks  and  sands 
at  the  mercy  of  savages;  or  dead,  and  have 
died  without  a hand  to  succor,  or  a voice  to 
cheer  her  in  her  hour  of  agony  1” 

Thought  annihilates  time,  and  I lay  thus 
sinking  from  depth  to  depth,  I know  not  how 
long ; till  1 was  roused  by  the  entrance  of 
the  usual  endless  train  of  attendants  with 
lights;  and  the  chief  steward,  a venerable 
man  of  my  country,  whom  Titus  had  gener- 
ously continued  in  the  office  where  he  found 
him,  came  to  acquaint  me  that  a new  ban- 
quet awaited  my  pleasure.  The  old  man 
wept  at  the  sight  of  a chieftain  of  Israel  in 
captivity;  his  heart  was  full,  and  when  I had 
dismissed  the  attendants  with  their  untasted 
banquet,  he  gave  way  to  his  recollections. 

The  palace  was  once  the  dwelling  of  An- 
anus  the  high-priest,  whose  death  under  the 
cruelest  circumstances  was  the  leading  cause 


of  the  triumph  of  the  factions,  and  the  ruin 
of  Jerusalem.  In  the  very  chamber  where 
I sat  he  had  spent  the  last  day  of  his  life; 
and  left  it  only  to  take  charge  of  the  Temple 
on  the  fatal  night  of  the  assault  by  the  Idu- 
means.  He  was  wise  and  vigorous ; but, 
what  is  the  wisdom  of  man  1 

A storm,  memorable  in  the  annals  of  de- 
vastation, raged  during  the  night : Ananus, 
convinced  that  all  was  safe  from  human  hos- 
tility in  this  ravage  of  the  elements,  suffered 
the  wearied  citizens  to  retire  from  their  posts. 
The  gates  were  opened  by  traitors ; the  Idu- 
nieans,  furious  for  blood  and  spoil,  rushed  in; 
the  guard,  surprised  in  their  sleep  or  dis- 
persed, were  massacred ; and  by  daylight 
eight  thousand  corpses  lay  on  the  sacred 
pavements  of  the  Temple  ; and  among  them 
the  noblest  and  wisest  man  of  Judea,  An- 
anus. 

“ I found,”  said  the  old  man,  “ the  body 
of  my  great  and  good  lord  under  a heap  of 
dead,  but  was  not  suffered  to  convey  it  to  the 
tomb  of  his  fathers  in  the  valley  of  Jehosha- 
pliat.  I brought  his  sword  and  his  phylactery 
here,  and  they  are  now  the  only  memorials 
of  the  noblest  line  that  perished  since  the 
Maccabees.  In  these  chambers  I have  re- 
mained since,  and  in  them  it  is  my  hope  to 
die.  The  palace  is  large  ; the  Roman  sena- 
tors and  officers  reside  in  another  wing, 
which  1 have  not  entered  for  years,  and  shall 
never  enter ; mild  masters  as  the  Romans 
have  been  to  me,  I cannot  bear  to  see  them 
masters  within  the  walls  of  a chief  of  my 
country.” 

The  story  of  Naomi  occurred  to  me  ; but 
she  was  so  much  beyond  the  hope  of  my  dis- 
covery, that  I forebore  to  renew  the  old  man’s 
griefs  by  her  name.  A sound  of  trumpets 
and  the  trampling  of  cavalry  was  heard  from 
the  portal. 

j “ It  is  but  the  nightly  changing  of  the 
' troops,”  said  the  steward,  “ or  perhaps  the 
arrival  of  some  officers  from  the  camp:  they 
often  ride  here  after  nightfall  to  supper, 
spend  a few  hours,  and  by  day-break  are  gone. 
But  of  them  and  their  proceedings  I know 
nothing.  No  Jew  enters,  nor  desires  to  enter, 
the  banquet-hall  of  the  enemies  of  his  coun- 
try.” 

A knocking  at  the  door  interrupted  him, 
and  an  officer  appeared,  with  an  order  for  the 
prisoners  in  the  palace  to  be  removed  into 
strict  confinement.  The  venerable  steward 
gave  way  to  tears  at  the  new  offence  to  a 
leader  of  his  people.  I felt  some  surprise; 
but  merely  asked  what  new  alarm  had  de- 
manded this  harsh  measure. 

“ 1 know  no  more,”  replied  the  officer, 
“ than  the  general  has  arrived  here  a few 
minutes  since  ; and  that,  as  some  attempts 
have  been  lately  made  on  his  life,  the  coun- 


Salathiel. 


181 


cil  have  thought  proper  to  put  the  Jewish 
poniards  as  much  out  of  his  way  as  they  can. 
The  order  is  universal ; and  1 am  directed  to 
lead  you  to  your  apartment.” 

“ Then,  let  them  look  to  my  escape,”  said 
I.  “ I thank  the  council  for  this  service. 
While  I continued  above  suspicion,  they 
might  have  thrown  open  every  door  in  their  1 
dungeons.  But,  since  they  thus  degrade  me, 
you  may  tell  them  that  their  walls  should  be 
high,  and  their  bolts  strong,  to  keep  me  their 
prisoner.  Lead  on,  sir.” 

The  council  seemed  to  have  been  aware 
of  my  opinions ; for  my  new  chamber  was  in 
one  of  the  turrets;  the  customary  place  of 
detention  for  prisoners  supposed  to  be  pecu- 
liarly difficult  to  keep  within  bounds.  The 
lower  floor  being  generally  occupied  by  the 
guard,  there  could  be  no  undermining ; the 
smallness  of  the  building  laid  all  the  opera- 
tions of  the  fugitive  open  to  the  sentinel's 
eye  ; and  the  height  was  of  itself  an  obstacle 
that,  even  if  the  bars  were  forced,  might 
daunt  the  adventurer. 

The  steward  followed  me  to  my  den, 
wringing  his  hands.  Yet  the  little  apartment 
was  not  incommodious;  there  were  some  ob- 
vious attempts  at  rendering  it  a fitter  place 
of  habitation  than  usual ; and  a more  delicate 
frame  than  mine  might  have  found  indul- 
gence in  its  carpets  and  cushions.  Even 
my  solitary  hours  were  not  forgotten,  and 
some  handsome  volumes  from  the  governor’s 
library  occupied  a corner.  There  was  a lyre, 
too,  if  t chose  to  sing  my  sorrows;  and  a 
gilded  chest  of  wine,  if  I chose  to  drink  them 
away.  The  height  was  an  inconvenience 
only  to  my  escape  ; but  a lover  of  landscape 
and  fresh  air  would  have  envied  me ; for  I 
had  the  range  of  the  horizon,  and  the  benefit 
of  every  breeze  from  its  four  quarters.  A 
Chaldee  would  have  chosen  it  for  his  com- 
merce with  the  lights  of  heaven;  for  every! 
star,  from  the  gorgeous  front  of  Aldebaran  to 
the  minutest  diamond  spark  of  the  sky,  shone 
there  in  its  brightness.  And  a philosopher 
would  have  rejoiced  in  the  secluded  comfort 
of  a spot,  which,  in  the  officer’s  parting  plea- 
santry, was  in  the  very  sense,  “so  much 
above  the  world.” 


CHAPTER  LIII. 

To  me  the  prison  and  the  palace  were  the 
same.  No  believer  in  fate,  and  a strong  be- 1 
liever  in  the  doctrine  that,  in  the  infinite  ma- 
jority of  cases,  the  unlucky  have  to  thank 
only  themselves ; feeling,  too,  that  the  manly 
and  the  wise  disdain  to  act  by  borrowed  will 
or  wisdom ; I was  yet  irresistibly  conscious 
of  my  own  stern  exception.  That  there  was 


an  influence  hanging  over  me,  I deeply 
knew  ; that  I might  as  well  strive  with  the 
winds,  was  the  fruit  of  my  whole  experience ; 
and,  with  as  much  self-resolve  in  me  as  I 
ever  knew  in  man,  and  as  lofty  a calculation 
of  the  wonders  that  human  energy  may  work, 
I abandoned  myself  on  principle  to  the  chances 
of  the  hour.  1 was  the  weed  upon  the  wave  ; 
and,  whether  above  or  below  the  surface,  I 
knew  that  the  wave  would  roll  on,  and  that 
I must  roll  on  along  with  it.  1 was  the  atom 
in  the  air ; and,  whether  I should  float  unseen 
for  ever,  or  be  brought  into  sight  by  the  glid- 
ing of  some  chance  sun-beam  across  me,  my 
destiny  was  to  float  and  quiver  up  and  down. 
— I was  the  vapor;  and  whether,  like  the 
evening  cloud,  my  after  years  were  to  evolve 
into  glorious  shapes  and  colors,  or  I should 
creep  along  the  pools  and  valleys  of  fortune 
till  the  end  of  time, — yet,  there  I was,  still 
in  existence,  and  that  existence  bound  by 
laws  incapable  of  the  choices  or  caprices  of 
man. 

I had  yet  to  learn  the  true  burden  of  my 
great  malediction : for  the  circumstances  of 
my  life  were  yet  adverse  to  its  fated  solitude 
of  soul ; its  bitter  conviction  that  there  was 
not  a being  under  the  canopy  of  heaven 
whose  heart  was  towards  me  ; its  dull  and 
melancholy  exile,  in  the  midst  of  a world  full 
of  activity,  hope,  and  passion.  I was  still  in 
the  very  eddy  of  life,  and  battling  it  with  the 
boldest.  My  family  survived  : public  cares, 
personal  interests,  glowing  attachments,  the 
whole  vigorous  activity  of  the  citizen  and  the 
soldier,  were  mine.  I was  still  husband,  fa- 
ther, friend,  champion  of  a great  people  ; my 
task  was  difficult  and  grave,  but  it  was  ar- 
dent, proud  and  animating.  I was  made  for 
this  activity  of  the  whole  man  ; master  of  a 
powerful  frame  that  defied  fatigue,  and  was 
proof  against  the  sharpest  visitations  of  na- 
ture ; and  of  an  intellect,  which,  whatever 
might  be  its  rank,  rejoiced  in  tasking  itself 
with  labors  that  appalled  and  perplexed  the 
multitude — in  feeding  and  stimulating  a per- 
petual passion  for  the  grand  and  the  imagi- 
native— in  giving  itself  up  to  an  ambition,  a 
devouring  and  inappeasable  desire  of  doing 
something,  by  which  I should  be  rescued 
from  the  common  obscurity  ; of  planting  in 
the  waste  the  seed  of  a name  which  should 
spring  up  and  flourish,  and  go  on  distending 
in  vigor  and  majesty,  when  the  more  preco- 
cious fosterlings  of  the  day  were  withered 
in  dust. 

Idle  as  I knew  the  praise  of  man,  and  sov- 
ereign as  was  my  scorn  for  the  meanness 
which  stoops  to  the  vulgar  purchase  of  popu- 
larity, I felt  and  honored  the  true  fame — that 
renown,  whose  statue  is  devoted,  not  by  the 
suspicious  and  clamorous  flattery  of  the  time, 
but  by  the  solemn  and  voluntary  homage  of 


182 


Salat  hi  el. 


the  future:  whose,  splendor,  like  that  of  a 
new-born  star,  if  it  take  ages  to  reach  man- 
kind, is  sure  to  reach  them  at  last,  and  shines 
for  ages  after  its  fount  is  extinguished : whose 
essential  power,  if  it  be  coerced  and  obscured, 
like  that  of  a man  while  his  earthly  tenement 
still  shuts  him  in,  is  thenceforth  to  develope 
itself  from  strength  to  strengh — the  mortal  j 
putting  on  immortality. 

In  the  whirl  of  such  thoughts  I was  often 
carried  away,  to  the  utter  oblivion  of  my  pe- 
culiar fate : for  man  and  his  associations  were 
strong  within  me,  in  defiance  of  the  com- 
mand. The  gloom  often  passed  away  from 
my  soul,  as  the  darkness  does  from  the  mid- 
night ocean  in  the  dash  and  foam  of  its  own 
waters.  Nature  is  perpetual ; and  drives  the 
affections,  sleeping  or  waking,  as  it  drives 
the  blood  through  the  old  channels.  It  was 
only  at  periods,  produced  by  strong  circum- 
stances, that  I felt  the  fetter;  but  then,  the 
iron  entered  into  my  soul ! 

To  this  partial  pressure  belongs  the  singu- 
lar combination  of  such  a fate  as  mine  with 
an  interest  in  the  world,  with  my  loves  and 
hates,  my  thirst  of  human  fame,  my  reluc- 
tance at  the  prospect  of  the  common  ill  and 
injuries  of  life.  I was  a man  ; and  this  is 
the  whole  solution  of  the  problem.  For  one 
remote  evidence  that  I was  distinct  from 
mankind,  I had  ten  thousand  direct  and  con- 
stant, that  I was  the  same.  But,  for  the  par- 
tiality of  the  pressure,  there  was  a lofty  rea- 
son. 

The  man  who  feels  himself  above  the  com- 
mon fate,  is  instantly  placed  above  the  com- 
mon defences  of  mankind.  He  may  calum- 
niate and  ruin  ; he  may  burn  and  plunder; 
he  may  be  the  rebel  and  the  murderer.  Fear 
is,,  after  all,  the  great  security.  But  what 
earthly  power  could  intimidate  him!  What 
were  chains,  or  the  scaffold,  to  him  who  felt 
instinctively  that  time  was  not  made  for  his 
being  ; that  the  scaffold  was  impotent ; that 
he  should  yet  trample  on  the  grave  of  his 
judge;  on  the  mouldered  throne  of  his  king; 
on  the  dead  sovereignty  of  his  nation  1 With 
his  impassiveness,  his  experience,  his  know- 
ledge, and  his  passions,  concocted  and  black- 
ened by  ages,  what  breast  could  be  safe 
against  the  dagger  of  this  tremendous  exile  ; 
what  power  be  secure  against  the  rebel 
machination,  or  the  open  hostility  of  a being 
invested  with  the  strength  of  immortal  evil  ? 
What  was  to  binder  a man  made  familiar 
with  every  mode  of  influencing  human  pas- 
sions — the  sage,  the  sorcerer,  fount  of  tradi- 
tion, the  friend  'of  their  worshipped  ancestors 
— from  maddening  the  multitude  at  whose 
head  he  willed  to  march,  clothed  in  the  attri- 
butes of  almost  a divinity  1 

But  I was  precluded,  or  saved,  from  this 
fearful  career,  by  the  providential  feeling  of 


the  common  repugnances,  hopes,  and  fears 
of  human  nature.  Pain  and  disease  were  in- 
stinctively as  much  shunned  by  me,  as  if  I 
held  my  life  on  the  frailest  tenure;  death 
was  as  formidable  as  my  natural  soldiership 
would  suffer  it  to  be ; and,  even  when  the 
thought  occurred  that  I might  defy  extinc- 
tion, it  threw  but  a darker  shade  over  the 
common  terrors,  to  conceive  that  I must  un- 
dergo the  suffering  of  death,  without  the 
peace  of  the  grave.  Man  bears  his  agony 
for  once  and  is  done.  Mind  might  be  borne 
to  the  bitterest  extremity,  but  must  be  borne 
with  the  keener  bitterness  of  the  knowledge 
that  it  was  in  vain. 

I was  recalled  from  those  reveries  to  the 
world,  by  a paper  dropped  through  a crevice 
in  the  rafters  above  my  head.  On  seeing 
its  signature,  “Septimius,”  my  first  impulse 
was  to  tear  it  in  pieces.  But  Esther’s  name 
struck  me,  and  I read  through  the  letter. 

“ You  must  not  think  me  a villain,  though, 
1 confess,  appearances  are  much  in  favor  of 
the  supposition.  But,  this  morning  I had  no 
choice  between  denying  that  I knew  you, 
and  being  utterly  ruined.  This  comes  of 
discipline.  Titus  is  a disciplinarian  of  the 
first  order ; and  the  consequence  is,  that  no 
man  dares  acknowledge  any  little  irregularity 
before  him ; so  far,  his  morality  propagates 
knaves.  But  I must  clear  myself  of  the 
charge  of  having  acted  disingenuously  by 
your  admirable  daughter.  I take  every  power 
that  binds  the  soul  to  witness,  that  1 know 
not  what  is  become  of  her;  nhy,  I am  in 
the  deepest  anxiety  to  know  the  fate  of  one 
so  lovely,  so  innocent,  and  so  high-minded. 

“And  now,  prince,  that  I am  out  of  the 
reach  of  your  frown,  let  me  have  courage  to 
disburden  my  heart.  I have  long  known  Es- 
ther, and  as  long  loved  her.  From  the  time 
when  I was  first  received  within  your  palace 
in  Naphtali  (and  I have  not  forgotten,  that 
to  your  hospitality  I then  owed  my  life)  I 
was  struck  with  her  talents  and  her  beauty. 
When  the  war  separated  us  and  I returned 
to  Rome,  neither  in  Rome  nor  in  the  empire, 
could  I see  her  equal.  To  solicit  our  union, 
I gave  up  the  honors  and  pleasures  of  the 
court,  for  the  campaign,  in  your  hazardous 
[country.  I searched  Judea  in  vain  ; and  it 
was  chiefly  in  the  vague  hope  of  obtaining 
;some  intelligence  of  Esther,  that  I solicited 
the  command  of  our  unfortunate  mission. 
There  I felt  all  hazard  more  than  repaid  by 
her  sight,  to  me  more  lovelier  than  ever. 

“ I will  acknowledge  that  I prolonged  my 
confinement,  to  have  the  opportunity  of  ob- 
taining her  hand.  But  her  religious  scruples 
were  unconquerable.  I implored  her  leave 
to  explain  myself  to  you.  Even  this,  too,  she 
refused,  ‘ from  her  knowledge  of  your  deci- 
sion.’ What  then,  was  I to  do  1 Loving  to 


Salat  hiel. 


183 


excess,  bewildered  by  passion,  oppressed  with 
disappointment,  and  seeing  but  one  object  on 
earth,  my  evil  genius  prompted  me  to  act  the 
dissembler. 

“ Under  pretext  of  disclosing  some  secrets 
connected  with  -your  safety,  I induced  her  to 
meet  me,  for  the  first  and  last  time,  on  the 
battlements.  There  I besought  her  to  fly 
with  me — to  be  my  bride — to  enjoy  the  illus- 
trious rank  and  life  that  belonged  to  the  im- 
perial blood ; and  when  we  were  once  wed- 
ded, to  solicit  the  approval  of  her  family.  I 
was  sincere ; I take  the  gods  to  witness,  1 
was  sincere.  But  my  entreaty  was  in  vain  ; 
she  repelled  me  with  resolute  scorn;  she 
charged  me  with  treachery  to  you,  to  her,  to 
faith,  and  sacred  hospitality.  I knelt  to  her. 
She  spurned  me.  In  distraction,  and  know- 
ing only  that  to  live  without  her  was  wretch- 
edness, I was  bearing  her  away  to  the  gate, 
when  we  were  surrounded  by  armed  men. 
My  single  attendant  fled : I was  overpowered, 
and  forced  to  the  gate;  and  I saw  Esther,  my 
lovely  and  beloved  Esther,  no  more.” 

There  was  an  honesty  in  this  full  confes- 
sion, that  did  more  for  the  writer’s  cause  than 
subtler  language.  The  young  Roman  had 
been  severely  tried  ; and  who  could  expect 
from  a soldier  the  self-denial,  that  it  might 
have  been  hard  to  find  under  the  grave  brow 
of  philosophy!  Stern  as  time  and  trial  had 
made  me,  I was  not  petrified  into  a contempt 
of  the  generous  weaknesses  of  earlier  years ; 
yet,  to  love  a being  like  Esther — what  was 
it,  but  to  be  just!  and  while  I honored  the 
high  sense  of  duty  which  repelled  a lover  so 
dangerous  to  a woman’s  heart,  I pitied  and 
forgave  the  violence  of  a passion,  lighted  by 
unrivalled  loveliness  of  form  and  mind. 

It  was  growing  late ; and  the  steward, 
who  made  a virtue  of  showing  me  the  more 
respect  the  more  I was  treated  with  severity, 
came  in  to  arrange  my  couch  for  the  night; 
: “ he  would  suffer  no  inferior  hands  to  ap- 
proach the  person  of  one  of  the  leaders  of  his 
fallen  country.  In  truth,”  added  he,  “if  I 
were  not  permitted  to  be  your  attendant  to- 
night, my  prince  might  have  been  forgotten  ; 
for  every  human  being  but  myself  is  busy  in 
the  grand  banquet  gallery.” 

Sounds  of  instruments  and  voices  arose. 
“There,  you  may  hear  the  music.  Titus 
gives  a supper,  in  honor  of  the  Emperor’s 
birth-day;  and  the  palace  will  be  kept  awake 
until  day-light : for  the  Romans,  with  all 
their  philosophy,  are  great  lovers  of  the  table ; 
and  Titus  is  renowned  for  late  sitting.  Or 
would  you  wish  to  see  them  at  their  ban- 
quet!” So  saying,  he  unbarred  the  shutters 
of  a casement,  commanding  a view  along  the 
gallery;  of  which  every  door  and  window 
was  thrown  open  for  the  breeze. 

If  an  ancient  Roman  could  start  from  his 


slumber  into  the  midst  of  European  life,  he 
must  look  with  scorn  on  its  absence  of  g*race, 
elegance,  and  fancy.  But  it  is  in  its  festivi- 
ties, and,  most  of  all,  in  its  banquets,  that  he 
would  feel  the  incurable  barbarism  of  the 
Gothic  blood.  Contrasted  with  the  fine  dis- 
plays that  made  the  table  of  the  Roman  noble 
a picture,  and  threw  over  the  indulgence  of 
appetite  the  colors  of  the  imagination  ; with 
what  eyes  must  he  contemplate  the  tasteless 
and  common-place  dress,  the  course  attend- 
ants, the  meagre  ornament,  the  want  of  mirth, 
music,  and  intellectual  interest — the  whole 
heavy  machinery,  that  converts  the  feast  into 
the  mere  drudgery  of  devouring  ! 

The  guests  before  me  were  fifty  or  sixty 
splendidly  dressed  men,  attended  by  a crowd 
of  domestics,  attired  with  scarcely  less  splen- 
dor ; for  no  man  thought  of  coming  to  the 
banquet  in  the  robes  of  ordinary  life.  The 
embroidered  couch,  itself  a striking  object, 
allowed  the  ease  of  position,  at  once  delight- 
ful in  the  relaxing  climates  of  the  south,  and 
capable  of  combining  with  every  grace  of  the 
human  figure.  At  a slight  distance,  the  table, 
loaded  with  plate  glittering  under  the  blaze 
of  a profusion  of  lamps,  and  surrounded  by 
couches  thus  covered  with  rich  draperies, 
was  like  a central  source  of  light  radiating 
in  broad  shafts  of  every  brilliant  hue.  All 
that  belonged  to  the  ornament  of  the  board 
was  superb.  The  wealth  of  the  patricians, 
and  their  perpetual  intercourse  with  Greece, 
made  them  masters  of  the  finest  performances 
of  the  arts.  The  sums  expended  on  plate 
were  enormous.  But  its  taste  and  beauty 
were  essential  to  the  refined  enjoyment  of 
the  banquet.  Copies  of  the  most  famous  sta- 
tues and  groups  of  sculpture  in  the  precious 
metals  ; trophies  of  the  victories  of  the  Greek 
and  Roman ; models  of  the  celebrated  tem- 
ples; were  mingled  with  the  vases  of  flowers 
and  lighted  perfumes ; and  covering  and  col- 
oring all,  was  a vast  scarlet  canopy,  which 
combined  the  groups  beneath  the  eye,  and 
threw  the  whole  into  a form  that  a painter 
would  love. 

But  the  true  skill  was  shown  in  the  con- 
stant prevention  of  that  want  of  topic,  which 
turns  conversation  into  weariness.  There 
was  a perpetual  succession  of  new  objects 
and  excitements.  Even  the  common  changes 
of  the  table  were  made  to  assist  this  purpose. 
The  coming  in  of  each  course  was  announced 
by  music,  and  the  attendants  were  preceded 
by  a procession  of  minstrels  dancing,  chaplet- 
crowned,  and  playing  popular  melodies.  Be- 
tween the  courses,  a higher  entertainment 
was  offered  in  the  recitations,  pleasantries 
read  or  acted  by  a class  of  professional  satirists 
of  the  absurdities  of  the  day. 

It  is  easy  to  imagine  how  fertile  a source 
of  interest  this  must  have  been  made  by  the 


184 


Salathiel. 


subtle  and  splenetic  Italian,  moving  through 
Roman  life,  the  most  various,  animating,  and 
fantastic  scene,  in  which  society  ever  shone. 
The  recitations  were  always  looked  to  as  the 
charm  of  the  feast.  They  were  often  severe 
but  their  severity  was  reserved  for  public 
men  and  matters.  The  court  supplied  the 
most  tempting  and  popular  ridicule ; but  the 
reciter  was  a privileged  person,  and  all  the 
better  humored  Ctesars  bore  the  castigation 
without  a murmur.  No  man  in  the  empire 
was  more  laughed  at  than  Vespasian,  and  no 
man  oftener  joined  in  the  laugh.  One  of  his 
morning  sports  was  to  collect  the  burlesques 
of  the  night  before,  give  them  new  pungency 
by  a touch  of  the  imperial  pen,  and  then  de- 
spatch them  to  make  their  way  through  the 
world.  The  strong  headed  sovereign  knew 
the  value  of  an  organ  of  public  opinion,  and 
used  to  call  their  perusal,  “ sitting  for  his 
picture.”  The  picture  was  sometimes  so 
strong,  that  the  courtiers  trembled.  But  the 
veteran  who  had  borne  thirty  years  of  battle, 
laid  it  up  among  “ his  portraits,”  laughed  the 
insult  away  ; and  repeated  his  popular  say- 
ing, “ that  when  he  was  old  enough  to  come 
to  years  of  discretion,  and  give  up  the  em- 
peror, he  should  become  reciter  himself,  and 
have  his  turn  with  the  world.” 

The  recitations  again  were  varied,  by  a 
sportive  lottery,  in  which  the  guests  drew 
prizes;  sometimes  of  value,  gems  and  plate; 
sometimes  merely  an  epigram,  or  a caricature. 
The  banquet  generally  closed  with  a theatric 
dance  by  the  chief  public  performers  of  the 
day ; and  the  finest  forms  and  most  delicate 
arts  of  Greece  and  Iberia  displayed — the 
story  of  Theseus  and  Ariadne  ; the  flight  of 
Jason  ; the  fate  of  Semele,  or  some  other  of 
the  brilliant  fictions  of  their  poetry.  In  the 
presence  of  this  vivid  scene,  sat,  tempering 
its  wildness  by  the  majesty  of  religion,  the 
three  great  tutelar  idols  of  Rome,  Jove,  Juno, 
and  Minerva,  of  colossal  height,  throned  at 
the  head  of  the  hall;  completing,  false  as 
they  were,  the  most  singular  and  dazzling 
combination  that  man  ever  saw,  of  the  de- 
light of  the  senses  with  the  delight  of  the 
mind. 

To  me  human  joy  was  alway  a source  of 
enjoyment;  and  in  the  sweet  sounds  of  harps 
and  flutes,  and  the  pleasant  murmur  of  cheer- 
ful voices,  I was  not  unwilling  to  forget  the 
spot  from  which  I listened.  But  the  prisoner 
cannot  long  forget  his  cell ; and  closing  the 1 
casement  I walked  away. 

“ Little  I ever  thought,”  sighed  the  old 
steward,  “of  seeing  that  sight.  But  all  na- 
tions have  fallen  in  their  time,  and  perhaps 
the  only  wonder  is,  that  Israel  should  have 
stood  so  long.  But  it  is  still  stranger  to  my 
eyes  to  see  that  gallery  as  it  is  to  night : 
many  a long  year  it  has  been  shunned  by 


Jew  and  Roman  alike : for  the  enemy  give 
way  to  dreams  and  the  fear  of  apparitions  be- 
yond any  other  people;  and  the  mighty 
things  done  in  the  times  of  our  fathers,  and 
which,  though  dishonored  in  the  mouths  of 
the  heathen,  made  their  report  known  through 
the  earth,  have  made  Judea  a land  of  awe  to 
its  evil  conquerors.  It  is  fifteen  years  this 
very  day,  since  I saw  the  light  of  lamp,  or 
the  foot  of  man,  within  those  casements.” 

“ Yet,”  said  I,  “the  great  Ananus  lived  as 
became  his  rank;  and  there  were  then  no 
dangers  to  disturb  him  in  the  midst  of  his 
people.” 

“ But  there  was  one  terrible  event,  which 
made  those  walls  unhallowed;  nay,  even  in 
this  spot  where  we  stand,  I would  not  remain 
alone  through  the  night,  to  have  the  palace 
for  my  own.” 

A rich  and  solemn  strain  of  music  that 
ushered  in  some  change  in  the  displays  of  the 
banquet,  interrupted  my  question  ; while  the 
old  man’s  countenance  assumed  something  of 
the  alarm  which  he  described. 

“That  sound,”  said  he,  shuddering,  “goes 
to  my  heart.  It  is  the  same  that  I heard  on 
the  night  of  death.  On  that  night  Matthan, 
the  only  son  of  my  great  master,  was  to  be 
wedded  to  the  daughter  of  the  prince  of  He- 
bron ; and  that  gallery  was  laid  out  for  the 
wedding  feast;  all  the  leaders  of  Jerusalem 
were  there,  all  the  noble  women,  all  the 
chief  priesthood ; all  the  grandeur,  wealth, 
and  beauty  of  our  tribe.  But  Matthan  was 
not  the  son  of  his  father’s  mind.  He  was 
haughty,  and  the  slave  of  passion ; he  had 
fled  from  his  father’s  roof  years  before,  and 
taken  refuge  among  the  mountains.  The 
caravan  passing  through  Galilee  dreaded  the 
name  of  Matthan,  for  he  was  bold;  the  chief 
of  the  hills  saw  his  followers  flying  from  his 
side,  for  deadly  was  the  spear  of  Matthan ; but 
he  was  generous,  and  often  the  slave  rejoiced 
in  the  breaking  of  his  chains,  and  the  peasant 
saw  his  flocks  cover  the  valley  again,  by  the 
arm  and  the  bounty  of  Matthan. 

“ When  he  returned,  danger  or  sorrow  had 
wrought  a change  in  him  like  the  passing 
from  youth  to  age.  His  strength  was  with 
ered,  and  his  voice  was  broken  down,  like 
the  voice  of  him  that  treads  on  the  brink  of 
the  timely  grave. 

“ His  noble  father  wept  over  him  and  gave 
him  welcome,  and  the  palace  was  filled  with 
rejoicing  for  the  coming  back  of  the  first- 
born. But  he  took  no  delight  in  the  feast, 
neither  in  the  praises  of  men,  nor  in  the  voice 
of  the  singer.  He  wandered  through  his 
father’s  halls,  even  as  the  leopard,  chained, 
and  longing  to  escape  to  the  desert  and  the 
prey  again. 

“Disturbances  were  beginning  to  be  heard 
in  Jerusalem ; and  he  fell  into  the  hands  of 


Salathiel. 


185 


the  evil : Onias,  the  man  of  blood,  betrayed 
him  into  the  secret  ways  of  conspiracy 
against  our  conquerors.  His  heart  was  bold, 
and  his  temper  high;  and  he  was  easily 
drawn  into  the  desperate  game,  by  a villain, 
who  stirred  up  the  generous  spirit  of  our  no- 
bles, only  to  sell  their  blood  to  Rome. 

“He  grew  more  lonely  and  violent  day  by 
day ; he  withdrew  from  the  amusement  of 
his  rank,  and  shut  himself  up  in  the  wing  of 
the  palace  ending  in  this  tower.  In  this 
room,  where  we  are  sitting,  I have  seen  his 
lamp  burning  through  the  livelong  winter 
nights ; and  grieved  over  the  sleeplessness 
that  showed  he  was  among  the  unhappy.  Into 
his  chamber  none  were  suffered  to  enter  but 
the  mountaineers  alone,  who  had  followed 
him  in  his  wandering  life,  and  whose  speech 
none  else  could  understand. 

“ I little  dreamed  what  inhabitants  were 
then  in  this  cell.  At  last  a change  was 
wrought  upon  him  ; he  went  forth  ; he  took 
delight  in  the  horse  and  chariot,  in  the  chase, 
and  the  feast,  and  the  die.  He  plunged  into 
public  life  with  the  eagerness  of  one  thirst- 
ing and  hungering  for  the  applause  of  men. 
He  harangued,  he  gave  magnificent  gifts,  he 
filled  up  every  hour  with  the  labor  of  mind 
or  body,  like  one  to  whom  an  hour  of  rest 
would  be  a blot  in  his  existence.  His  illus- 
trious father,  that  he  might  bless  his  pros- 
perity before  he  died,  counselled  him  to  take 
to  wife  Thamer,  the  fairest  and  noblest  of 
the  daughters  of  Hebron.  The  offer  of  the 
alliance  ofMatthan  was  heard  with  joy;  and 
the  day  of  the  marriage  was  appointed. 

“ On  that  day  I saw  him  come  from  the 
council-hall,  after  receiving  the  congratula- 
tions of  his  friends.  I saw  him  passing  along 
to  his  chamber;  but  I dared  not  cross  him  on 
his  way ; I fled  and  hid  myself  behind  the 
portal,  even  from  the  wrath  of  his  counte- 
nance. He  thought  that  he  was  alone  ; and 
then  he  gave  way  to  his  agony.  Never  did 
I behold  such  a countenance  of  wrath  and 
woe.  It  was  bloated  with  prodigal  living, 
and  it  was  now  flushed  with  wine,  swallowed 
to  drown  thought ; but  misery  was  branded 
there. 

“ He  raved,  he  rent  his  bridal  raiment,  and 
cast  it  from  him;  he  wept;  he  knelt  and 
cursed  the  hour  that  he  was  born ; he  flung 
himself  upon  the  ground,  and  rolled  in  a con- 
vulsion of  rage  and  woe.  At  the  least  sound 
he  would  spring  up,  and,  drawing  his  scime- 
tar,  swear  to  put  the  intruder  to  death.  I re- 
mained in  my  refuge;  yet  more  in  fear  of  his 
countenance  than  of  his  sword.  He  took  let- 
ters from  his  bosom,  read  them,  and  then 
scattering  their  fragments  in  the  air,  devoted 
himself  to  ruin,  devoted  his  line,  Judea,  the 
world. 

“ He  tottered  before  me ; and  I dreaded 


his  rage  at  the  discovery ; but  I saw  at  a 
glance,  that  his  mind  was  gone.  He  was 
talking  to  the  air;  he  clasped  his  hands  wild- 
ly, his  face  was  covered  with  tears ; he  im- 
plored for  mercy,  and  fell.  I hastened  to 
bear  him  to  the  couch  ; he  saw  me  not;  but 
cried  out  against  himself,  as  a betrayer  and  a 
murderer,  the  feeble  slave  of  others’  will,  the 
guilty  fugitive  from  honor,  the  criminal  mark- 
ed by  the  hand  of  Heaven. 

“I  called  for  help.  His  mountaineers 
rushed  in  ; they  repulsed  me ; and,  chiding 
him  in  their  barbarian  tongue,  and  seeming 
accustomed  to  those  fits  of  sorrow,  carried 
away  in  their  arms  the  noble  Mattban,  com- 
plaining and  crying  like  a child. 

“The  evening  fell,  and  I saw  him  ride 
forth  at  the  head  of  his  kindred  to  bring  home 
the  bride.  The  wretchedness  of  the  day 
was  past ; and  those  who  looked  only  on  the 
lofty  bearing,  and  heard  the  joyous  language 
of  the  leader  of  that  train,  would  have  thought 
that  sorrow  had  never  touched  his  heart.  I 
watched  for  his  return  with  fear  and  anx- 
iety ; for  I deemed  his  joy  unhallowed  and 
fearful. 

“ But  all  was  well;  the  bridal  procession 
returned.  Matthan,  glittering  in  jewels, 
came,  proudly  reining  his  steed,  white  as  the 
snow  ; the  sound  of  harp  and  trumpet — the 
chorus  of  singers — the  gay  light  of  torches — 
and  the  beauty  of  the  youths  and  maidens 
who  danced,  and  threw  their  crowns  of  flow- 
ers before  the  bride,  made  me  forget  every 
thing  but  the  delight  of  seeing  peace  and 
prosperity  come  among  us  once  more. 

“ When  the  bride  and  her  female  com- 
panions entered  the  hall  reserved  for  them 
to  prepare  for  the  nuptial  banquet,  I followed 
my  great  master  into  the  gallery.  The  bride- 
groom and  a multitude  of  his  friends  were 
there  already  ; and  never  was  crowd  more 
joyous.  But  the  wonder  and  the  life  of  all 
was  the  bridegroom  himself.  Loud  as  they 
were,  his  voice  was  the  loudest ; he  laughed 
at  every  thing,  as  if  he  had  never  known  a 
care  in  the  world,  or  was  never  to  know  one 
again.  The  jest  was  never  out  of  his  lips; 
and  w'hen  he  pledged  the  cup  to  the  health 
of  the  company  or  the  fair  bride,  and  often  he 
pledged  it  that  evening,  he  always  said  some- 
thing that  raised  shouts  of  applause.  I once 
or  twice  passed  near  him,  but  he  had  wiped 
every  sign  of  grief  from  his  features  ; and  if 
he  seemed  to  be  mad  with  any  thing,  it  was 
with  joy.  The  gallery  rang  with  admiration, 
and  not  less  with  surprise;  for  he  had  shut 
himself  up  so  long  from  the  people,  that  he 
was  almost  unknown;  and  the  world  is  gen- 
erally good«natured  enough  to  invent  a char- 
acter for  those  who  will  take  no  trouble  to 
make  one  for  themselves.  Some  had  set  him 
down  for  intolerable  haughtiness ; others,  for 


186 


Scilathiel. 


fear  of  mixing  in  the  growing  tumults ; others, 
for  a dealer  in  the  black  art;  and  others, 
for  a mere  fool.  But  now  opinions  were 
altered  at  once,  and  every  voice  of  his  tribe 
was  loud  in  wonder  at  the  talents  he  had  so 
long  hid  in  retirement.  The  old  rejoiced  to 
see  the  vigor  and  ability  of  Ananus  renewed  ; 
the  warriors  and  nobles  still  active  in  the  pub- 
lic affairs,  foreseeing  the  struggles  that  were 
to  come,  looked  proudly  to  this  newiy  discov- 
ered champion  of  their  country ; and  the 
young,  struck  by  his  bold  sentiments,  were 
ready  to  fall  down  in  homage  to  their  future 
prince  and  leader. 

“I  was  standing  in  the  train  of  the  high- 
priest,  near  the  central  casement,  through 
which  you  may  now  see  the  throne  of  Titus. 
My  eyes,  I know  not  why,  strayed  to  this 
tower ; I marked  a lamp  quivering,  and  a 
form  rushed  backwards  and  forwards  in  ges- 
tures of  violent  sorrow.  A foot  beside  me 
made  me  turn.  There  stood  Matthan  with 
his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  tower.  But  his  gaiety 
was  gone.  His  countenance  was  wild  and 
yet  cold.  He  looked  like  a man  stricken  to 
otone  in  the  midst  of  some  fierce  burst  of  pas- 
sion. He  saw  me  not ; he  saw  not  the  guests ; 
he  saw  nothing  but  the  dying  lamp,  and  the 
hurrying  form. 

“ The  chorus  of  singing  women  announced 
that  the  bride  was  about  to  enter. 

“ I looked  up  at  the  tower ; the  lamp  was 
twinkling  its  last;  and  the  form  was  still 
seen  wringing  its  hands.  The  bridal  prepa- 
rations went  on,  and  the  hymn  was  heard 
that  denotes  the  veiling  of  the  bride.  But 
my  eyes  Were  fixed  on  the  dying  light,  and 
the  form  that  now  held  a cup  in  its  hand.  A 
shriek  was  heard,  so  wild,  that  the  guests 
sprang  from  their  seats  in  alarm  and  astonish- 
ment. My  eye  turned  upon  Matthan,  but  he 
had  summoned  up  his  strength,  and,  though 
I saw  him  shake  in  every  limb,  his  proud  lip 
wore  a smile. 

“ Yet  even  that  was  gone,  as,  with  a start, 
and  clasping  his  hand  upon  his  brow,  he  ab- 
ruptly turned  from  the  window,  and  in  a 
loud  and  angry  tone  demanded,  why  the  bridal 
attendants  delayed  the  coming  of  the  princess 
of  Hebron.  The  lamp  had  disappeared,  and 
the  tower  was  in  darkness  again.  The  at- 
tendants hastened — the  portals  were  thrown 
open,  and  the  bride,  in  grace  and  majesty 
that  drew  all  eyes,  was  led  up  to  the  canopy 
beneath  where  the  bridegroom  stood.  He 
raised  the  veil.  His  countenance  was  in- 
stantly transformed  into  blank  horror.  He 
uttered  no  voice;  but  stood  gazing.  The 
bride  let  fall  the  veil  again,  and  taking  his 
hand,  led  him  slowly,  and  without  a word, 
down  the  hall. 

“None  checked  this  strange  ceremony; 
none  dared  to  check  it.  We  were  deprived 


of  all  power  by  astonishment.  The  high- 
priest  himself  stood  with  his  venerable  hands 
lifted  up  to  heaven,  as  if  he  felt  that  evil  was 
come  upon  his  house.  The  wedded  pair 
walked  in  silence  through  the  long  range  of 
chambers  to  the  tower;  and  as  they  passed, 
the  numberless  attendants  felt  themselves 
bound  by  the  same  mysterious  awe.  But  our 
senses  at  length  returned,  and  Ananus,  in 
the  full  dread  of  his  misfortune,  yet  bold  to 
his  dying  hour,  suffered  none  to  go  before 
him.  We  found  the  door  of  the  tower  barred, 
and  long  summoned  Matthan  to  come  forth, 
and  relieve  our  fears  lest  some  desperate  in- 
vention of  sorcery  and  conspiracy  had  been 
played  upon  him.  No  answer  was  returned, 
and  we  forced  the  door. 

“ What  a sight  was  there  ! Two  corpses 
lay,  side  by  side.  The  blood  still  trickled 
from  the  bosom  of  the  unfortunate  Matthan. 
I raised  the  veil ; the  hue  of  poison  was  upon 
the  lips;  but  they  were  not  the  lips  of  the 
princess  of  Hebron.  The  countenance  was 
Arabian,  and  of  exceeding  beauty,  but  wan 
and  wasted  by  sorrow. 

“ A new  confusion  arose.  The  mountain- 
eers, on  hearing  of  d.e  death  of  their  lord, 
and  still  more  of  that  noble  creature  in  whom 
they  honored  the  race  of  their  chieftains,  de- 
manded vengeance : they  were  too  fierce  to 
listen  to  reason,  and  our  attempts  to  explain 
the  unhappy  truth  only  kindled  their  rage. 
Scimetars  were  drawn,  blood  was  shed  ; and 
though  the  barbarians  were  repelled,  yet  they 
plundered  the  wing  of  the  palace,  and  bore 
off  the  infant  offspring  of  their  dead  mistress; 
the  last  scion  of  an  illustrious  tree,  that  wyas 
itself  so  soon  to  feel  the  axe. 

Vl’he  princess  of  Hebron  was  found  alone, 
swooning  at  the  tumult  of  the  palace.  I saw 
the  unfortunate  and  guilty  Matthan  laid  in 
the  sepulchre  of  his  fathers — the  last  that 
ever  slept  there ; for  his  great  sire,  worthy 
of  being  laid  in  the  monument  of  kings,  was 
denied  the  honors  of  the  grave  by  his  mur- 
derers. Yet  he  sleeps  in  the  nohlest  of  all 
graves;  his  memory  is  treasured  in  the  love 
and  sorrows  of  his  country. 

“ It  was  discovered  that  Matthan,  during 
his  wanderings  in  the  desert,  had  wedded 
the  daughter  of  a sheik ; a generous  and  high- 
minded  creature,  who  more  than  once  saved 
him  from  being  undone  by  his  own  reckless- 
ness. He  loved  her  with  the  violence  of  his 
nature  ; but  the  prospect  w'hich  his  rank  and 
talents  opened  to  him  on  his  return  to  his 
country,  made  him  shrink  from  the  acknow- 
ledgement of  the  alliance  of  his  wilder  days. 
Yet  to  live  without  her  he  found  impossible, 
and  he  brought  her  to  the  tower.  Surround- 
ed by  his  mountaineers,  this  portion  of  the 
palace  was  inaccessible ; and  his  solitude, 
and  the  lights  seen  through  the  casements, 


Salat  hiel. 


187 


were  often  thought  to  imply  studies  of  the 
strange  philosophy,  or  evil  superstitions,  that 
had  begun  to  infect  the  noble  youth  of  Pales- 
tine. 

“ But  the  necessity  of  sustaining  his  ambi- 
tion by  an  illustrious  marriage  drove  his  fickle 
heart  at  last  to  treachery.  The  Arabian 
knew  it,  and  disdaining  to  reproach  the  trai-j 
tor,  pined  away  before  his  eyes.  Remorse 
and  ambition  alternately  distracted  him ; he 
loved,  and  yet  was  forced  along  by  the  neces- 
sity that  vice  makes  for  itself.  The  bridal, 
procession  was  seen  by  the  unhappy  prisoner, 
and  she  swallowed  poison.  The  rest  is  be-  j 
yond  my  power  to  account  for.  But  it  is  ru- 
mored among  the  attendants  that  strange, 
sights  have  been  seen,  and  sounds  of  a bridal  j 
throng  heard  in  the  chambers  through  which  , 
their  last  melancholy  march  was  made ; 
though,  whether  it  be  truth,  or  the  common 
fear  of  the  vulgar,  I know  not,  nor  indeed 
wish  too  curiously  to  inquire.” 


CHAPTER  LIV. 

* 

As  the  old  man  spoke,  sounds  arose  not 
unsuited  to  his  tale.  But  my  faith  in  the  le- 
gend did  not  amount  to  so  sudden  a realiza- 
tion, and  I looked  towards  the  gallery.  There, 
from  whatever  motive,  every  thing  was  in 
disturbance.  The  guests  were  hurrying  from 
the  tables.  Many  had  thrown  the  military 
cloak  over  their  festal  robes : some  were  in 
the  adjoining  apartments  equipping  them- 
selves with  arms  and  armor.  A group  were 
standing  round  Titus,  evidently  in  anxious 
consultation.  In  the  spacious  grounds  below, 
horsemen  were  mounting,  and  attendants 
hurrying  in  all  directions.  The  calls  of  the 
clarion  and  trumpet  echoed  through  the 
courts:  shortly  after,  a large  body  of  cavalry 
came  wheeling  round  to  the  portal  of  the 
gardens ; and  Titus  went  forth,  conspicuous 
among  the  bustling  crowd  for  his  manly  com- 
posure. He  gave  some  orders,  which  were 
despatched  by  tribunes  galloping  as  for  their 
lives;  then,  mounting  his  charger,  rode  slow- 
ly through  the  gates  at  the  head  of  his  state- 
ly company,  himself  the  most  stately  of  them 
all. 

The  woods  surrounding  the  palace  soon 
intercepted  the  view  of  the  imperial  troop ; 
and  after  straining  my  eyes  as  long  as  I could 
see  the  glitter  of  a helmet  by  the  feeble  moon, 
and  exhausting  my  old  companion’s  under- 
standing in  conjectures  of  the  cause  of  this 
rapid  change,  I turned  to  my  casement,  to 
make  that  prayer  for  the  peace  of  Jerusalem 
which  had  been  nightly  on  my  lips  from  the 
hour  when  they  first  could  pray ; and  which 
no  danger,  nor  sorrow,  nor  disgust  at  man- 

13 


kind,  nor  the  bitterest  despair,  has  ever  si- 
lenced during  ages.  From  the  dungeon  has 
that  supplication  risen  ; from  the  mine ; from 
the  arid  sands  of  the  wilderness;  from  the 
savage  shores  of  the  farthest  ocean  ; from 
the  bosom  of  the  rolling  waters ; from  the 
fires  of  the  persecutor ; from  the  field  before 
the  battle ; from  the  field  covered  with  its 
dead ; from  the  living  grave  of  the  monk ; 
from  the  cavern  of  the  robber ; from  the  pal- 
ace ; from  the  scaffold  ! 

While  I continued  in  this  outpouring  of 
the  soul,  with  my  eyes  fixed  on  the  cloudy 
throne  of  Him,  whom  no  man  hath  seen  or 
can  see  ! the  morn  seemed  to  be  advancing 
on  the  sky  : a pale  reflection  spread  over  the 
masses  of  rolling  vapor;  it  lingered,  faded, 
grew  richer,  again  sank,  and  night  covered 
the  earth ; again  swelled,  and  a fierce  lustre 
turned  the  low  and  heavy  clouds  to  the  color 
of  conflagration. 

“ There  is  an  attack  on  either  the  enemy’s 
camp  or  the  city,”  I exclaimed  to  my  com- 
panion, who  was  already  dropping  into  slum- 
ber on  his  cushion.  “ Daybreak  it  cannot  be, 
for  the  middle  watch  has  not  been  half  an 
hour  sounded.  Help  me  to  escape;  be  but 
my  guide  through  the  chambers,  and  name 
your  recompense.” 

The  steward  wrung  his  helpless  hands, 
and  offered  his  life  to  my  service ; but  de- 
scribed the  precautions  of  my  jailers  so  fully, 
that  I gave  up  the  idea  of  immediate  escape; 
and,  after  gazing  at  the  sky  until  it  became 
a sheet  of  darkness  once  more  bade  him 
good  night,  and  flung  myself  down,  to  seek 
such  rest  as  I could  find  upon  my  pillow. 

But  I was  tossed  by  anxious  thoughts,  and 
sleep  was  a tardy  visitant.  I heard  the  tread- 
ing of  the  guard  till  its  recurrence  irritated 
me.  The  moanings  of  the  wind  through  the 
trees  told  me  that  a storm  was  rising ; and 
to  get  rid  of  the  uneasy  conflict  between  the 
desire  of  sleep  and  the  difficulty  of  shutting 
out  thought,  I rose,  and  watched  the  progress 
of  the  tempest. 

The  lightnings  flashed  in  broad  beams 
through  the  clouds,  and  the  rain  fell  with 
the  violence  of  the  southern  storm.  But, 
through  the  flash,  powerful  and  deepening 
again  shone  the  red  illumination  above  the 
city  ; and  neither  the  roar  of  the  wind,  nor 
the  dash  of  the  descending  deluge  could  ex- 
tinguish the  shouts  that,  remote  as  they  were, 
I knew  to  be  shouts  of  battle. 

I measured  the  tower  with  my  eyes;  I 
tried  the  strength  of  the  bars ; but  the  at- 
tempt only  served  to  disturb  my  companion, 
who  had  survived  his  sorrows  long  enough 
to  sleep  as  soundly  as  if  there  were  not  a 
woe  on  earth.  When  I used  some  of  the 
common-places  of  regret  for  the  disturbance, 
(tI  am  glad,”  said  he,  “ that  you  awoke  me ; 


188 


Salathiel. 


for  I was  dreaming  the  story  of  my  unfortu- 
nate lord  and  his  son  over  again.” 

“ The  natural  result  of  your  having  so  late- 
ly renewed  its  recollection,  and  of  this  having 
been  the  time  of  the  catastrophe.”  j 

“ Aye,  the  time  is  much,  for  every  soul  in 
the  palace  has  had  the  story  told  to  him  to- 
day: the  old  retainers,  who  remember  and 
weep  over  the  days  of  their  great  master,  are 
full  of  it.  There  is  perhaps  scarcely  a room 
under  this  roof  where  some  heart  is  not  trem- 
bling to-night  with  ghostly  fear;  nor  a pea- 
sant’s thatch,  where  the  death  of  Matthan 
and  the  Arabian  has  not  made  pale  faces ; 
nor  a sentinel  for  miles  round,  who  does  not 
shiver  at  every  falling  leaf,  and  think  of  the 
shriek,  the  avenging  spirit,  and  the  bride-' 
groom  stricken  in  his  hour  of  pride.  But — 
Powers  of  Heaven  protect  us  ! look  there  !”  j 

I looked  ; but  it  was  to  the  old  man,  whose 
countenance  alarmed  me  with  the  idea  that 
he  had  wrought  his  imagination  to  a hazard- 
ous extreme.  I took  his  cold  hand  ; and  tell- 
ing him  that  I felt  myself  unable  to  sleep, 
and  should  have  the  less  merit  in  watching, 
till  morn,  gently  laid  his  stiffened  limbs  on  ] 
the  couch,  and  bade  him  try  to  rest.  He  lay  , 
as  unresisting,  yet  fixed,  as  if  he  had  been 
turned  to  ice.  But  the  eye  stared  through 
the  casement,  till  I followed  its  direction,  yet 
with  only  the  added  belief  that  he  was  over- 
come by  the  common  terrors  of  the  house- 
hold ; for  to  me  tenfold  darkness  lay  upon 
every  object  from  the  ground  to  the  battle- 
ments. 

The  departing  officers  and  attendants  kept 
the  palace  in  tumult ; but  more  than  common 
urgency  quickened  them  ; and  the  last  group, 
and  the  last  sound  of  voices,  soon  passed 
away,  leaving  the  silence,  like  the  darkness, 
deeper  than  ever. 

I accidently  turned  to  the  casement,  and 
there — I saw  a figure  slight  and  shadowy, 
passing  backward  and  forward  in  front  of  a 
quivering  lamp ! My  surprise  was  more 
startling  than  I would  venture  to  communi- 
cate to  my  companion,  already  almost  par- 
alysed with  fear.  But  if  I had  conjured  up  a 
phantom  to  give  force  to  the  tale,  none  could 
have  been  more  closely  similar. 

The  figure  was  enveloped  in  robes  whose 
richness  I could  perceive  even  across  the 
court;  the  gestures,  the  wild  hurry  of  the 
pacings  through  the  chamber,  the  general  air 
of  woe  and  distraction,  were  not  to  be  mis- 
taken. In  the  midst  of  the  silence  I heard 
the  creaking  of  bolts  and  the  fall  of  chains, 
that  seemed  to  be  at  my  side.  A single  word 
followed  ; but  that  word  terribly  comprehen- 
sive : — “ Death !”  The  sound  was  uttered 

in  a hollow  and  sepulchral  tone,  that  left  the 
imagination  free  to  shape  the  picture  with 
what  sullenness  it  willed.  But  the  sound 


was  scarcely  uttered  when  I heard  a shriek, 
wild  as  ever  told  of  woe ; saw  the  figure  sink 
down,  and  the  lamp  quiver,  and  expire  ! 

The  old  man  had  seen  what  I had  seen ; 
but  the  natural  feebleness  of  age  left  him  a 
more  helpless  prey  to  superstitious  fear ; and 
no  attempt  to  explain  these  singular  coinci- 
dences could  calm  him.  He  was  convinced 
that  the  vengeance  which  had  stricken  his 
master’s  house  was  still  abroad  ; and  that  he 
had  beheld  its  minister.  Remonstrance  was 
in  vain;  and  he  sank  alternately  into  the 
reveries  and  the  stupefaction  of  spiritual  ter- 
ror. 

I tended  him  with  the  more  interest,  from 
my  being  not  altogether  unimpressed  with 
the  possibility  that  his  alarms  were  just.  I 
was  no  believer  in  the  vulgar  narratives  of 
superstition.  But  nature  has  its  mysteries  : 
truth  or  judgment  might  be  commissioned 
from  sources  strange  to  human  perceptions. 
To  give  way  to  the  workings  of  a sickly  im- 
agination, may  characterize  the  vulgar,  the 
idle,  and  the  weak;  but  to  admit  the  power 
of  Heaven  to  suspend  its  own  laws  for  its 
own  purposes,  is  among  the  soundest  conclu- 
sions of  the  pious  and  the  wise.  j 

While  I sat  beside  the  couch,  and  watchea 
the  ebbs  and  flows  of  life,  in  a frame  that  I 
sometimes  expected  to  see  give  way  utterly, 
a jarring  of  bolts  again  struck  my  ear.  I lis- 
tened with  a strange  emotion.  But  the  sound 
soon  ceased,  and  I was  firm  again.  The  old 
man  had  heard  it,  and  in  a new  convulsion 
grasped  both  my  hands,  and  held  me  close. 
The  sound  returned ; it  increased  ; I saw  the 
wall  of  the  tower  open,  and  the  figure  stand 
before  me.  “ It  is  she,  it  is  she,”  shudder- 
ingly  murmured  my  companion,  fixing  his 
eyes  on  it,  and  holding  me  with  a clasp  of 
agony.  The  heart  beat  quick  within  me. 
But  1 interposed  myself  between  the  corpse- 
like being  whom  I held  in  my  arms,  and  the 
unearthly  visitant;  and  demanded  “ for  what 
purpose  it  had  come.”  The  figure  started  as 
I spoke ; then,  gazing  intently  on  me  as  I 
turned  to  the  light,  threw  up  its  veil,  and  fell 
at  my  feet.  The  lovely  Naomi  was  the  spec- 
tre ! But  perfectly  guiltless  was  the  gentle 
girl  of  the  ghostly  potency  of  her  presence, 
and  the  unfil ial  alarm  unto  which  she  had 
thrown  her  adopted  father;  whom  she  was 
delighted  to  find,  but  whom  she  candidly  ac- 
knowledged, “ she  never  dreamed  of  finding 
there.” 

“ The  tower  contains  a prisoner,”  said  she, 
tremblingly,  “ who  must  be  saved  this  night; 
for  to-morrow  at  day-break  is  his  dreadful 
hour.  1 knew  that  he  would  be  condemned  ; 
and  we  agreed  on  a signal  by  which  I was 
to  learn  when  the  time  was  fixed.  I have 
watched  all  night  for  it,  and  almost  betrayed 
myself  by  a cry  of  horror  that  I could  not  sup- 


Salathiel. 


189 


press  at  the  sight  of  that  signal  just  now.  I ! 
had  no  resource  but  to  bear  my  own  message, 
and  assist  him  myself  in  escaping  from  this 
place  of  tyranny  and  sorrow.” 

“ But  my  child,  who  is  the  prisoner,  or 
where!” 

She  blushed,  and  said,  “ One  who  saved 
me  when  the  world  was  against  me.  He 
rescued  me  from  the  hands  of  the  barbarians ; 
and  could  1 leave  him  to  perish  1” 

“ Lead  on,  then,  and  without  delay ; for  the 
daybreak  is  not  far.  But  how  shall  we  find 
our  way  to  his  dungeon  1” 

“ I paid  high,”  said  she,  “ for  my  know- 
ledge of  this  tower ; and  it  has  no  conceal- 
ments from  me  ; remove  this  bar.” 

I drew  out  a slender  iron  rod  ; some  of  the 
large  stones  of  the  wall  gave  way,  and  dis- 
closed a winding  stair  in  the  depth  of  the 
wall  by  which  we  descended.  We  found  the 
prisoner  writing,  and  so  much  occupied,  that 
our  light  footsteps  did  not  interrupt  him. 

“There,”  soliloquized  he,  as  he  ran  his 
eye  down  the  epistle;  “I  think,  my  masters, 
if  not  the  better,  some  of  you  will  be  the 
wiser  for  my  labors.  Home  truths  are  the 
truths  after  all.  Titus  will  learn  what  a set 
of  incurable  reprobates  he  has  about  him ; 
and  by  this  time  to-morrow,  when  I shall  care 
as  little  for  mankind  as  mankind  ever  cared 
for  me,  I shall  do  the  state  service;  from  my  | 
gibbet  turn  reformer,  and  make  the  scaffold 
popular.  And  now  farewell  to  my  lady  and 
my  love.” 

He  sighed  and  threw  down  the  pen.  “ No, 
my  sweet  Naomi,  I can  say  nothing  half  so 
fond,  or  half  so  bitter,  as  my  feelings  at  this 
moment.  Would  that  I had  never  seen  you, 
if  we  are  to  part  so  soon.  Yet,  why  should 
I regret  to  have  known  innocence,  beauty, 
and  truth,  in  their  perfection  ! No,  my  love, 
rosy  was  the  hour  when  I first  saw  you,  and 
proud  is  even  the  parting  hour  that  tells  me! 
I could  have  loved  so  noble  a being.  But  all 
is  better  as  it  is.  How  could  I have  borne 
to  see  you  following  the  fortunes  of  a wan- 
derer, of  a man  without  a country  or  a name  1 
Then,  farewell,  my  Naomi;  dearest,  fare- 
well ; you  were  the  gleam  of  sunshine  in  my 
cloudy  day,  the  star  in  my  dreary  night : and 
while  my  heart  beats,  you  shall  be  there. 
Your  name  shall  be  the  last  upon  my  lips: 
and  if  there  be  thought  beyond  the  grave, 
you  shall  be  remembered  and — oh,  how  deep- 
ly— loved !” 

I had  been  on  the  point  of  disturbing  his 
meditation  ; but  Naomi,  with  the  fine  avarice 
of  passion,  would  not  lose  a syllable.  She 
held  me  back,  and  implored  me  by  her  coun- 
tenance to  let  her  have  the  full  confession  of 
her  lover’s  faith.  That  beautiful  countenance 
ran  through  all  the  shades  of  feeling,  and 
was  covered  with  blushes  and  tears,  while 


the  unconscious  worshipper  poured  out  his 
devotion.  But  the  time  was  flying;  I in- 
sisted on  interrupting  this  epicurism  of  the 
soul ; and  when  Naomi  found  that  she  must 
feast  no  more,  she  would  allow  none  but  her- 
self the  pleasure  of  the  surprise. 

A sigh  which  swelled  from  the  prisoner’s 
heart  was  echoed.  He  turned  suddenly,  and 
pronounced  her  name  with  a loudness  of  de- 
light, that  nothing  but  the  chance  that  pro- 
tects the  imprudent,  could  have  prevented 
from  bringing  the  guard  upon  us.  His  quick 
eye  soon  caught  me,  where  I stood  in  sha- 
dow ; and  he  sprang  forward  to  extinguish 
the  intruder.  But  the  lamp  saved  us  from 
the  encounter;  and,  lifting  his  hands  and 
eyes  in  amazement,  he  laughed  as  loudly  as 
he  had  spoken. 

“ In  the  name  of  all  the  wonders  of  the 
w'orld,”  exclaimed  he,  “are  you  here,  tool 
Where  are  we  to  meet  next!  We  have  met 
already  in  water,  fire,  and  earth  ; and  nothing 
is  left  for  us  now  but  the  clouds.  Come,  be 
honest,  prince,  and  tell  me  whether  it  was 
not  for  the  sake  of  some  such  experiment  that 
you  ventured  here  ; for,  between  ourselves, 
if  another  hour  finds  us  within  these  four 
walls,  we  shall  know  the  grand  secret  as  as- 
suredly as  Titus  wears  a head,  and  has  a 
scoundrel  at  his  elbow.” 

I was  rejoiced  to  find  that  in  attempting  to 
save  the  life  of  Naomi’s  lover,  I was  dis- 
charging a debt  to  the  preserver  of’my  own. 
To  my  mention  of  this  service,  he  replied 
with  soldier-like  frankness,  that,  “I  owed 
him  no  obligation  whatever ; he  had  long 
hated  the  intolerable  insolence  and  cruelty 
of  Cestius,  and  the  debt  was  on  his  side,  as  I 
had  favored  him  with  an  opportunity  that 
every  officer  in  the  service  would  have  been 
happy  to  possess.  His  chastisement  would 
do  him  good,  as  well  as  the  rest  of  the  world ; 
and  thus,  in  fact,  I might  look  upon  myself 
as  a benefactor  to  the  human  race.” 

Naomi  hung  upon  me,  pale  and  anxiously 
listening  to  every  sound  abroad.  “ This  little 
trembler,”  said  he,  sportively,  as  he  took  her 
passive  hand,  “ I am  destined  to  meet  always 
in  alarm.  I first  found  her  flying  from  a 
troop  of  human  brutes,  who  were  robbing  the 
baggage  of  the  Roman  camp;  I thought  her 
worth  something  better  than  to  keep  goata 
on  the  Libanus,  and  weave  turbans  for  some 
Syrian  deserter;  she  was  of  the  same  opinion, 
and  fell  in  love  with  me  on  the  spot.”  Na- 
omi exclaimed  against  this  version  of  the 
story. 

“ No  matter  for  the  mode,”  said  he,  “ I 
give  the  facts.  I dazzled  her  ambition  by 
the  promise  of  a palace, — in  the  air;  bribed 
j her  avarice  by  the  display  of  a purse,  uncon- 
scious of  gold  ; and  bewitched  her  senses  by 
a speech,  a smile,  and  a figure,  that  for  the 


190 


Salathiel. 


first  time  in  my  life  I found  to  be  irresisti- 
ble.” 

Naomi  again  protested;  and  the  dialogue 
might  have  consumed  the  night  without  their 
discovering  the  lapse  of  time,  had  I not  in- 
terposed, and  inquired  what  farther  means 
of  escape  were  in  our  power.  The  lovely 
girl  started  from  her  waking  dream,  and 
pointed  to  a ring  in  the  wall,  which  was  con- 
nected with  a concealed  door.  I tried  it,  but 
it  resisted  my  force.  At  length  we  all 
strove  at  it  together.  But  no  door  opened. 

Naomi  wrung  her  hands.  “ The  unfortu- 
nate lord  of  this  tower,  in  former  times,”  said 
she,  and  the  tear  stood  in  her  eye,  “ always 
predicted  that  it  would  be  fatal  to  his  family. 
To  escape  his  own  fate,  he  pierced  its  walls 
with  passages  in  every  direction;  but  they 
did  not  save  my  noble,  my  unfortunate  father.” 
She  sat  down  weeping ; while  I tore  at  the 
ring,  which  finally  broke  off  in  my  hands. 
The  lover  stood  with  folded  arms,  gazing  in 
sad  delight  on  the  beautiful  being  from  whom 
he  was  so  soon  to  part  for  ever ; and  whose 
face  and  form  wore  almost  the  shadowy  love- 
liness of  a vision. 

The  chance  of  their  escape  devolved  on 
me  solely  ; for  neither  would  have  desired  to 
disturb  that  strange  and  melancholy  luxury 
of  contemplation.  But,  as  the  concealed  door 
must  be  given  up,  the  only  resource  was  to 
return  to  my  cell,  and  thence  make  our  way 
through  the  passage  by  which  Naomi  had  ar- 
rived. A glance  from  the  casement  showed 
me  the  courts  filled  with  soldiery,  and  lights 
moving  through  her  chamber.  This  hope 
was  gone. 

In  the  deepest  doubt  and  fear,  I ventured 
up  through  the  tower  to  discover  whether 
my  cell  was  not  already  in  possession  of  the 
guard.  I pushed  back  the  door  noiselessly  ; 
the  cell  was  empty,  even  the  old  steward 
was  gone.  Imagination  is  a dangerous  aux- 
iliary in  such  a crisis ; and  it  created  out  of 
this  trivial  change  a host  of  alarms.  He 
must  have  fled  to  give  notice  of  my  retreat; 
or  to  rouse  the  vigilance  of  the  soldiery  by 
the  story  of  the  wonders  that  he  had  seen. 
Escape  was  hopeless.  I even  heard  a con- 
fused whispering,  which  “proved  that  we 
had  fallen  into  the  snare.” 

There  was  no  alternative  but  to  be  seized 
and  die ; or  to  make  a bold  rush  for  life,  and 
take  our  chance.  I returned,  carried  the 

fainting  Naomi  up  the  stairs;  and  suppress- 
ing the  infinite  risk  of  the  attempt  to  pene- 
trate through  a building  in  which  nearly  the 
entire  of  its  inmates  were  still  awake  and 
busy,  and  which  was  guarded  by  the  vigilance 
of  Roman  patrols,  I advised  that  we  should  do 
any  thing  rather  than  remain  where  we  were. 
She  was  tirnid  and  submissive;  but  to  my 
surprise,  her  lover,  whom  I had  known  the 


very  soul  of  daring,  and  who  met  danger 
with  a jovial  scorn — the  bold  seaman,  the 
haughty  leader  of  men  harder  to  be  ruled 
than  the  elements,  the  gallant  despiser  of 
death  but  a day  past,  in  the  cause  of  a mere 
stranger — was  now  totally  unnerved.  The 
novelty  of  passion  absorbed  the  heroic  spirit 
of  the  youth;  he  lingered  near  his  mistress, 
and  gazed  on  her  with  an  intenseness  that 
told  his  world  was  there.  To  my  questions 
he  gave  no  answer;  but  obeyed,  without  a 
word  or  a glance  turned  from  the  exquisite 
countenance  that  sank  and  blushed  under 
his  gaze.  If  the  actual  power  of  enchant- 
ment had  been  wrought  upon  him,  he  could 
not  have  been  more  fixed,  helpless,  and 
charmed. 

I heard  a groan  of  pain,  and  thought  of 
the  ancient  follower  of  the  house  of  Ananus. 
My  cooler  judgment  had  acquitted  him  of  be- 
traying me  into  the  enemy’s  hands.  A part 
of  the  cell  was  filled  up  with  the  remnants 
of  a canopy  removed  from  the  statelier  apart- 
ments. The  groan  came  from  behind  them. 
I drew  them  away,  and  saw  a door  open  by 
which  he  must  have  left  the  tower.  I went 
forward  a few  steps;  hope  throbbed  in  me. 
I returned,  desired  the  captain  and  Naomi  to 
follow,  wrapped  myself  in  a cloak,  and  sword 
in  hand  led  the  way  through  the  darkness. 
I had  not  gone  far,  when  I found  myself  tread- 
ing on  a human  body.  I sprang  back;  but 
the  figure,  more  startled  than  I,  rolled  down 
a succession  of  steps  before  me,  and  falling 
against  a door  burst  it  open.  A strong  light 
from  within  flashed  up  the  stairs;  and  taking 
Naomi’s  hand,  I led  her  down  this  steep  and 
narrow  outlet  of  the  grand  gallery.  As  she 
came  towards  the  light,  a wild  cry  was  given ; 
the  man,  whom  I now  perceived  to  be  the 
steward,  rose  on  his  feet,  and,  exclaiming  “ It 
is  she,  risen  from  the  grave,  the  Arabian !” 
rushed  through  the  vast  hall,  in  which  were 
still  a number  of  domestics  setting  it  in  order 
after  the  banquet.  Every  eye  was  turned  to 
the  spot  from  which  we  emerged.  Naomi’s 
white-robed  form,  followed  by  her  lover’s  and 
mine,  wrapped  to  the  brow  in  our  dark  man- 
tles, formidably  verified  the  superstition.  The 
crowd  were  already  prepared  to  witness  a 
wonder  on  this  night  of  woe,  they  fled  or  fell 
on  their  faces  ; the  steward  still  rushing  on, 
propagated  terror  before  us ; and  through 
the  long  vista  of  lighted  chambers,  where  to 
be  seen  might  have  been  ruin,  we  moved,  un- 
questioned, until  we  saw  the  portal.  It,  too, 
had  been  thrown  open  by  some  of  the  fugi- 
tives : the  gardens  were  deserted ; the  troops 
had  been  drawn  by  the  search  in  Naomi’s 
chamber  to  another  quarter  of  the  palace. 
Before  us  was  welcome  solitude;  and  we 
were  soon  traversing  the  wood-paths  by  the 
Might  of  the  stars. 


SalathieJ. 


191 


CHAPTER  LV. 

While  we  traversed  the  grounds,  the 
heaving  of  the  branches  under  the  wind, 
which  rose  in  strong  gusts  from  time  to  time, 
and  the  rush  of  the  rivulets  from  the  hill- 
sides, which  retained  the  swell  of  the  melting 
snows,  prevented  our  hearing  other  sounds. 
But  when  we  emerged  from  this  little  forest 
of  every  plant  that  yields  fruit  or  fragrance, 
and  began  to  climb  the  surrounding  ridge, 
the  sights  and  sounds  to  which  I had  been  so 
long  'accustomed  broke  upon  us.  To  the 
south  a long  line  of  light  showed  where  Jeru- 
salem was  struggling  against  a midnight  as- 
sault ; and  the  uproar  of  battle  came  melan- 
choly upon  the  wind.  The  Roman  camp- 
fires blazed  round  the  promontory  Scopas, 
like  the  innumerable  crevices  of  some  huge 
volcanic  hill  breathing  flame  from  root  to 
summit. 

But  a more  immediate  peril  lay  in  the 
route  behind  us.  The  first  height  from 
which  we  could  see  the  palace,  showed  us 
the  well  known  fire-signals  of  the  enemy 
flaming  on  its  battlements.  Our  escape  had 
of  course  been  discovered.  The  signals  were 
answered  from  every  point  of  the  horizon. 
Where  a signal  was,  there  was  an  enemy’s 
post : we  could  not  advance  a step  without 
the  most  imminent  hazard  of  seizure ; and, 
in  those  times,  death  by  the  shaft  or  sword 
was  the  instant  consequence. 

The  signals  were  followed  by  the  trumpet; 
and  every  blast  from  the  palace-roof  was  an- 
swered for  miles  round.  The  whole  horizon 
was  alive  with  enemies ; and  yet,  if  in  every 
call  captivity  and  death  had  not  been  the 
language,  this  circling  echo  of  the  noblest 
of  all  instruments  of  sound,  coming  in  a thou- 
sand various  tones  from  the  varied  distances, 
softened  by  the  dewy  softness  of  the  night, 
and  breathing  from  sources  invisible,  as  if 
they  were  inspired  only  by  the  winds,  or 
poured  from  the  clouds,  might  have  seemed 
lovely  and  sublime. 

But  a new  alarm  arose  in  the  direction  of 
the  forest,  which  now  lay  beneath  us,  like  a 
sea  slightly  silvered  on  its  thousand  billows 
by  the  sinking  moon.  The  trampling  of  cav- 
alry was  distinctly  heard  in  pursuit,  and  torch- 
es were  seen  wandering  through  the  trees. 
The  pursuit  had  turned  into  the  very  path  by 
which  we  came  ; and  the  baying  of  a blood- 
hound up  the  ridge  was  guiding  the  cavalry 
to  our  inevitable  capture,  if  we  remained.  I 
was  resolved  not  to  be  taken,  while  I could 
fight  or  fly;  and  pointing  out  to  my  fellow- 
fugitives  the  detachment  of  horse  as  they 
glittered  from  the  grove,  and  scoured  the 
foot  of  the  hills  ; 1 plunged  down  into  a ra- 
vine, where  I could  expect  to  find  only  some 


torrent  too  deep  for  us  to  pass,  and  which 
might  be  our  grave.  But  it  was  at  least  pro- 
tracted fate ; we  should  not  fall  alive  into 
the  hands  of  men  exasperated  to  the  last  de- 
gree of  animosity,  and  sure  to  sacrifice  us 
after  the  mockery  of  a prejudiced  trial,  and 
the  misery  of  a dungeon.  If  we  died,  we 
should  not  leave  our  bodies  to  be  insulted  by 
the  caprice  of  the  brutal  soldier;  and  no  stain 
of  weakness  or  submission  should  degrade  the 
last  hour  of  the  sons  of  Jerusalem. 

I had  given  Naomi  into  the  hands  of  her 
[lover;  and,  while  they  slowly  descended  the 
precipice,  I returned  to  its  edge  to  ascertain 
whether  the  enemy  were  still  upon  our  steps. 
The  rock,  towards  the  summit,  was  splintered 
into  a number  of  little  pinnacles ; grasping 
one  of  which,  I clung,  listening  and  gazing 
with  indescribable  nervousness.  The  sounds 
of  pursuit  had  perished,  or  were  so  mingled 
with  the  common  sounds  of  nature  as  to  be 
unheard  ; and  I was  congratulating  myself 
upon  our  total  safety,  and  about  to  return  to 
the  spot  where  I had  left  my  companions, 
when  the  torch-light  shot  up  from  the  dell 
immediately  below  me.  It  passed  rapidly 
round,  and,  to  my  surprise  and  alarm,  began 
to  spread  between  me  and  the  path  which  I 
had  marked  for  our  escape. 

I gave  a hurried  glance  along  the  ravine; 
but  Naomi  was  not  there.  A detachment  of 
archers  were  climbing  over  the  huge  rocks 
! that  filled  up  its  depth,  and  flashing  their 
1 torches  through  every  hollow  where  a human 
being  could  lie.  Concealment  was  impossi- 
ble, if  they  continued  their  search  ; but  after 
a short  period,  the  torches  appeared  to  pass 
down  an  angle  of  the  glen  where  some  thick- 
ets allowed  shelter. 

j To  rescue  my  unfortunate  charge,  was  my 
first  resolve ; and  I began  to  let  myself  down 
the  abrupt  side  of  the  hollow,  before  the  torch- 
es disappeared.  They  at  last  seemed  to  be 
completely  gone ; but,  as  I hung  within  a 
few  feet  of  the  path,  a growl  and  a dash  at 
my  throat  nearly  overthrew  my  steadiness. 
I knew  that  a precipice  of  immense  depth 
lay  underneath ; and,  in  the  utter  darkness, 
I could  have  no  certainty  that  my  next  step 
might  not  carry  me  over  it.  My  sole  expe- 
dient was  the  rock  with  one  hand,  and  de- 
fend myself  to  the  last  with  the  other.  The 
bloodhound  had  tracked  me ; and  he  flew 
again  at  my  throat,  but  I was  now  prepared ; 
I caught  him  in  the  bound,  and  whirled  him 
down  the  ravine.  His  howl,  as  he  fell  from 
crag  to  crag,  detected  me  at  once.  A hun- 
dred torches  rushed  upwards.  I climbed  the 
\ pinnacle,  sprang  from  its  top  into  a pine  thick- 
et, and  winding  over  a long  extent  of  broken 
ground,  gradually  lost  torches  and  outcries 
together. 

1 After  a pause,  to  consider  in  what  quarter 


192 


Salalhiel. 


final  escape  was  most  probable,  a glimmering 
light  through  the  thicket  at  a considerable 
distance  towards  the  city  determined  me. 
My  pursuers  must  be  far  behind  : the  loss  of 
the  bloodhound  diminished  still  more  their 
chance  of  reaching  my  track  through  a re- 
markably wild  and  broken  district ; and,  come 
what  would,  whether  that  light  was  kindled 
by  my  friends  or  enemies,  I should  see  them 
before  they  could  discover  me. 

I struggled  on,  until  I reached  the  base  of 
a ridge,  on  whose  farther  side  the  light 
gleamed.  To  ascend  it,  was  beyond  my 
powers;  but,  by  gliding  along  the  base,  1 
found  a crevice,  which,  enlarged,  whether 
by  nature  or  the  human  hand,  led  through 
the  hill.  My  way  in  darkness  was  brief,  I 
had  not  gone  a third  of  the  distance,  when 
a light  shone  strongly  through  the  cavern. 
At  its  mouth,  I stood  overwhelmed.  I had 
strayed  into  the  memorable  valley  of  the 
Crosses ! 

Thousands  of  men,  besmeared  with  blood, 
dust  and  clay,  half-naked,  brandishing  wea- 
pons still  dripping  with  gore;  whirling  torch- 
es; shouting  out  roars  of  triumph;  howling 
in  desperate  lamentation;  trampling  and  toss- 
ing dead  bodies  with  furious  insult;  kneeling 
and  weeping  over  the  dead  with  the  most 
%'iolent  affliction ; wrapping  themselves  in 
robes  of  armor  ; tearing  away  their  raiment, 
and  flinging  sword  and  spear  into  the  flames; 
throwing  hundreds  of  corpses  into  one  pro- 
miscuous burning,  round  which  they  danced 
with  furious  exultation  ; carrying  away  on 
litters  of  lances  and  branches  corpses  that 
they  seemed  to  hallow  as  more  than  mortal ; 
every  strange  variety  of  human  passion 
wound  up  to  its  wildest  height  was  pictured 
before  me.  And  all  was  thrown  into  the 
most  living  distinctness  by  the  blaze  of  an 
immense  central  heap  of  timber. 

The  horrid  cruelties  of  the  morning  had 
been  heard  of  in  Jerusalem;  and  the  spirit 
of  the  people  was  roused  to  vengeance. 
With  that  imperishable  courage  which  dis- 
tinguished them  above  all  nations,  a defiance 
and  scorn  of  hazard  that  in  those  unhappy 
days  only  urged  them  to  their  ruin,  they  de- 
termined to  make  the  enemy  pay  in  slaugh- 
ter for  the  memory  of  their  warriors.  A mul- 
titude, without  a leader,  but  among  whom 
served  with  the  simple  spear  many  a leader, 
poured  out  from  the  gates  to  attack  an  enemy 
flushed  with  victory,  and  secured  in  intrench- 
ments  impregnable  to  the  naked  strength  of 
my  unfortunate  countrymen. 

They  divided  into  two  armies ; one  of 
which  assaulted  the  lines,  while  the  other 
marched  to  the  valley  of  the  Crosses.  The 
assault  on  the  lines  was  repelled,  after  long 
and  desperate  displays  of  intrepidity.  It  was 
the  intelligence  of  this  attack  that  had  broken 


up  the  banquet.  The  Romans  had  sustained 
heavy  losses  in  the  early  part  of  the  night  • 
their  outposts  in  the  plain  were  sacrificed, 
and  the  chief  part  of  their  cantonments 
burned. 

But  the  “army  of  vengeance,”  a name 
given  to  it  alike  by  Jew  and  Roman,  accom- 
plished its  purpose  with  dreadful  retribution. 
The  legionaries  posted  to  defend  the  valley 
were  trampled  down,  and  destroyed  at  the 
first  charge.  Detachment  on  detachment 
sent  to  extricate  them,  met  with  the  same 
fate.  One  of  the  few  prisoners  described  the 
valley,  when  his  detachment  reached  its 
verge,  as  having  the  look  of  a living  whirl- 
pool, a vast  and  tempestuous  rolling  and 
heaving  of  infuriate  life,  into  which  the  at- 
tempt to  descend  was  instant  destruction. 
“ Every  cohort  that  entered  it,”  said  the  cen- 
turion, “ was  instantly  engulphed,  and  seen 
no  more.  Last  night  our  legion,  the  fifteenth, 
lay  down  in  their  tents  five  thousand  strong; 
to-night  there  are  not  ten  of  us  on  the  face 
of  the  earth.” 

The  conflict  was  long,  and  the  last  of  the 
enemy  were  under  the  Jewish  sword,  when 
I reached  the  mouth  of  the  cavern.  But  in 
the  first  intervals  of  the  struggle,  the  remains 
of  our  tortured  people  had  been  taken  down 
from  the  accursed  tree,  tended  with  solemn 
sorrow,  and  given  up  to  their  relatives  and 
friends  to  be  borne  back  to  Jerusalem.  The 
crosses  were  thrown  into  a heap,  and  set  on 
fire;  the  fallen  legionaries  underwent  the 
last  indignities  that  could  be  inflicted  by  scorn 
and  rage;  and  when  even  those  grew  weary, 
were  flung  into  the  blazing  pile. 

The  fate  of  the  noble  Eleazar  was  still  un- 
known; and,  to  obtain  the  certainty  of  his 
preservation,  or  to  render  the  last  honor  to 
his  remains,  I forced  my  way  towards  the 
spot  on  which  I had  seen  him  awaiting  death. 
But  my  researches  were  in  vain:  the  wit- 
nesses on  both  sides  were  now  where  there 
is  no  utterance.  Guard,  executioner,  and 
victim,  were  clay:  the  battle  had  raged 
chiefly  round  that  spot;  and  the  ground, 
trampled  and  stained  deep,  gave  melancholy 
evidence  of  the  havoc.  There  were  painful 
and  peculiar  signs  of  the  sacrifice  that  had 
extinguished  the  little  group  of  the  converts; 
and  I poured  oil  and  wine  upon  their  hallow- 
ed ashes.  A large  fragment  of  a cross  still 
stood  erect  in  the  midst  of  them.  “ Was  it 
upon  thee,  accursed  thing,”  I exclaimed, 
“ that  the  life-blood  of  my  brother  was  poured  1 
Was  it  upon  thee,  that  the  last  breath  was 
breathed  in  torture  from  the  lips  of  virtue, 
heroism,  and  purity?  Never  shalt  thou  min- 
ister again  to  the  cruelty  of  the  monsters 
j that  raised  thee  there.” 

Indignantly  I tore  up  the  beam  ; and  drag- 
ging it  to  the  pile  by  my  single  strength— to 


Salathiel. 


193 


the  wonder  of  the  crowd,  who  eagerly  offered 
their  help,  but  whom  I would  not  suffer  to 
share  in  this  imaginary,  yet  consoling  retri- 
bution— I rolled  it  into  the  flames,  amidst 
shouts  and  rejoicings. 

Daybreak  was  now  at  hand,  and  the  sounds 
of  the  enemy’s  movements  made  our  return 
necessary.  We  heaped  the  last  Roman  corpse 
on  the  pile;  covered  it  with  the  broken 
spears,  helmets,  and  cuirasses  of  the  dead, 
and  then  left  the  care  of  the  conflagration  to 
the  wind.  From  the  valley  to  Jerusalem, 
our  way  was  crowded  with  the  enemy’s 
posts ; but  the  keen  eye  and  agile  vigor  of 
the  Jew  eluded  or  anticipated  the  heavy- 
armed legionaries,  by  long  experience  taught 
to  dread  the  night  in  Judea;  and  we  reached 
the  Grand  Gate  of  Sion,  as  the  sun  was 
shooting  his  first  rays  on  the  pinnacles  of  the 
Temple. 

In  those  strange  and  agitated  days,  when 
every  hour  produced  some  extraordinary 
scene,  I remember  few  more  extraordinary 
than  that  morning’s  march  into  the  city.  It 
was  a triumph  ! but  how  unlike  all  that  bore 
the  name!  it  was  no  idle,  popular  pageant; 
no  fantastic  and  studied  exhibition  of  trophies 
and  treasures ; no  gaudy  homage  to  personal 
ambition  ; no  holiday  show  to  amuse  the  idle- 
ness or  to  feed  the  vanity  of  a capital  secure 
in  peace,  and  pampered  with  the  habits  of 
opulence  and  national  supremacy.  But  it 
was  at  once  a rejoicing,  a funeral,  a great 
act  of  ■ atonement,  a popular  preservation, 
whose  results  none  could  limit,  and  a proud 
revenge  on  the  proudest  of  enemies. 

That  nisrht  not  an  eye  had  closed  in  Jeru- 
salem. The  Romans,  quick  to  turn  every 
change  to  advantage,  had  suffered  the  advance 
of  our  irregular  combatants  only  until  they 
could  throw  a force  between  them  and  the 
gates.  The  assault  was  made,  and  with  par- 
tial success ; but  the  population  once  roused, 
was  terrible  to  an  enemy  fighting  against  wails 
and  ramparts,  and  the  assailants  were,  after 
long  slaughter  on  both  sides,  drawn  off  at 
the  sight  of  our  columns  moving  from  the 
hills.  We  marched  in,  upwards  of  fifty  thou- 
sand men,  as  wild  and  strange-looking  a host 
as  ever  trod,  to  acclamations  of  voices  unnum- 
bered. Every  casement,  roof,  battlement, 
and  wall,  in  the  long  range  of  magnificent 
streets  leading  round  by  the  foot  of  Sion  to 
Mount  Moriah,  was  covered  with  spectators. 
Man,  woman,  and  child,  of  every  rank,  were 
there,  straining  their  eyes  and  voices,  and 
waving  hands,  weapons,  and  banners  for  their 
deliverers  from  the  terror  of  instant  massacre. 
Our  motly  ranks  had  equipped  themselves 
with  the  Roman  spoils,  where  they  could ; 
and  among  the  ragged  vestures,  discolored 
turbans,  and  rude  pikes,  moved  masses  of 
glittering  mail,  helmets,  and  gilded  lances. 


Beside  the  torn  flags  of  the  tribes  were  toss- 
ing embroidered  standards  with  the  initials 
of  the  Caesars,  or  the  golden  image  of  some 
deity,  mutilated  by  our  scorn  for  the  idolater. 
The  Jewish  trumpets  had  scarcely  sent  up 
their  chorus,  when  it  was  followed  by  the 
clanging  of  the  Roman  cymbal,  and  the  long 
and  brilliant  tone  of  the  clarion,  or  the  deep 
roar  of  the  brass  conch  and  serpent.  Close 
upon  ranks  exulting  and  shouting  victory, 
came  ranks  bearing  the  honored  dead  on  lit- 
ters, and  bursting  into  bitter  sorrow ; then 
rolled  onward  thousands,  bounding  and  show- 
ing the  weapons  and  relics  that  they  had  torn 
from  the  enemy ; then  passed  groups  of  the 
priesthood, — for  they  too  had  long  taken  the 
common  share  in  the  defence, — singing  one 
of  the  glorious  hymns  of  the  Temple  : then 
again  followed  litters  surrounded  by  the 
wives  and  children  of  the  dead,  wrapt  in  in- 
consolable grief.  Bands  of  warriors,  who 
had  none  to  care  for,  the  habitual  sons  of 
the  field;  armed  women;  chained  captives; 
beggars ; men  covered  with  the  stately 
dresses  of  our  higher  ranks;  biers  heaped 
with  corpses;  wagons  piled  with  armor,  tents, 
provisions,  the  wounded,  the  dead  ; every  di- 
versity of  human  circumstance,  person  and 
equipment  that  belongs  to  a state  in  which 
the  elements  of  society  are  let  loose,  in  that 
march  successively  moved  before  the  eye. 
With  the  men  were  mingled  the  captured 
horses  of  the  legionaries;  the  camels  and 
dromedaries  of  the  allies;  herds  of  the  bull 
and  buffalo,  droves  of  goats  and  sheep ; the 
whole  one  mighty  mass  of  misery,  rejoicing, 
nakedness,  splendor,  pride,  humiliation,  fu- 
rious and  savage  life,  and  honored  and  la- 
mented death  ; the  noble  patriotism,  and  the 
most  hideous  abandon  " "it  to  the  excesses 
of  our  nature. 

As  soon  as  I could  extricate  myself  from 
the  concourse,  I hastened  to  appease  the  anx- 
ieties of  my  family ; who  had  suffered  the 
general  terrors  of  the  night,  with  the  addi- 
tion of  their  own  stake  in  my  peril,  and  that 
of  Constantius.  Esther  had  returned,  and 
was  still  in  nervous  alarm.  On  the  night  of 
her  being  led,  through  filial  zeal,  to  meet 
Septimius,  she  was  seized  by  a party  of  armed 
men,  and  by  them  conveyed  to  a dungeon, 
where  questions  had  been  put  to  her  tending 
to  charge  me  at  once  with  magic,  and  cor- 
respondence with  the  enemy.  But  no  threat- 
enings  could  influence  her,  and  she  found 
herself  as  unexpectedly  set  at  liberty  as  she 
had  been  seized.  At  the  gate  of  her  prison 
the  minstrel  had  met  her,  and  through  the 
midst  of  the  city,  then  in  its  fiercest  agitation, 
had  with  singular  dexterity  conducted  her 
safely  home. 

A service  of  this  kind  was  not  to  go  unre- 
warded, and  he  was  suffered  to  remain  under 


194 


Salathiel. 


our  roof  until  my  return.  But  by  that  time 
he  had  made  his  ground  secure  by  such  zeal- 
ous service,  and  so  many  graceful  and  val- 
uable qualities,  that  even  Miriam,  sensitive 
and  sagacious  as  she  was,  desired  that  he 
should  be  retained.  From  his  knowledge  of 
the  various  dialects  of  Asia,  and  his  means 
of  unsuspected  intercourse,  but  few  events 
could  occur  of  which  he  had  not  obtained 
some  previous  knowledge.  His  adroitness 
in  availing  himself  of  his  knowledge  I had 
already  experienced  in  my  escape  from  the 
gates,  and  it  was  to  him  that  was  due  the 
flight  of  the  negroes.  A stray  charger,  a 
mask,  and  the  common  juggler’s  contrivance 
of  breathing  flames,  made  up  the  demon  that 
defrauded  the  Ethiopian  exchequer.  But  his 
dexterity  in  the  arts  of  elegance  and  taste 
was  singular:  his  pencil  was  dipt  in  nature; 
and  the  sketches  that  he  was  perpetually 
making  of  the  wild  and  picturesque  popula- 
tion that  now  filled  our  streets  were  incom- 
parable. He  sculptured ; he  modeled ; he 
wove  ; he  wrought  the  gold  fillagree  and 
chain-work  for  which  our  artists  were  fa- 
mous, with  a skill  that  the  most  famous 
might  have  envied.  His  knowledge  of  lan- 
guages was  the  natural  result  of  his  wander- 
ings, but  it  was  extraordinarily  various  and 
pure.  The  dance  and  song  were  part  of 
his  profession ; but  from  the  little  imperfect 
harp  in  use  among  the  minstrels  he  drew 
tones  that  none  other  had  ever  delighted  me 
with  ; — sounds  of  such  alternate  spirit  and 
sweetness,  such  heart-reaching  power,  that 
they  were  like  an  immediate  communication 
of  mind  with  mind. 

And  the  charm  of  those  acquirements  was 
enhanced  by  the  graceful  carelessness  with 
which  he  made  his  estimate  of  their  value. 
To  my  questions,  how  he  could,  at  his  age, 
have  mastered  so  many  attainments;  his  re- 
ply was,  that,  with  his  three  teachers,  “ every 
thing  might  be  learned,  common  sense  alone 
excepted,  the  peculiar  and  rarest  gift  of  Provi- 
dence. Those  three  teachers  were,  Neces- 
sity, Habit  and  Time.  At  his  starting  in  life, 
Necessity  had  told  him  that,  if  he  hoped  to 
live,  he  must  labor ; Habit  turned  the  labor 
into  an  indulgence ; and  Time  gave  every 
man  an  hour  for  every  thing;  unless  he  chose 
to  yawn  it  away.” 

But  he  had  higher  topics;  and  the  sagaci- 
ty of  his  views,  in  a crisis  that  was  made  to 
shake  the  wisdom  of  the  wise,  often  held  me 
in  astonishment.  The  fate  of  Constantius 
deeply  perplexed  me.  He  had  now  been  absent 
three  days  : and  no  tidings  ot  him  could  be 
heard  among  the  returning  warriors,  farther 
than  that  he  had  joined  them  in  the  march  to 
the  valley  of  the  Crosses,  had  distinguished 
himself  by  the  intrepidity  of  his  attack  on  the 
legionary  guard  at  the  entrance,  and  was 


'seen  for  a short  time  with  a captured  stand- 
ard in  his  hand  leading  on  the  people. 

Unable  to  endure  the  silent  anguish  of 
those  around  me,  silent  only  through  fear  of 
giving  pain,  I had  determined  on  passing 
the  walls  again,  to  seek  my  brave  and  unfor- 
tunate son  among  the  fallen.  But  Miriam’s 
quick  affection  detected  me,  and  with  weep- 
ing prayers  she  implored  that  “ I should  not 
risk  a life,  on  which  hung  her  own  and  those 
of  her  children.” 

The  sound  of  the  lyre  came  soothingly 
upon  the  air,  and  to  dissipate  the  cloud  that 
was  gathering  on  my  mind,  I wandered  to  a 
balcony,  where,  in  the  light  of  the  evening 
sun,  and  the  pleasant  breathing  of  the  breeze, 
the  minstrel  was  touching  the  strings  of  the 
song  that  had  first  attracted  me.  I flung  my 
wearied  frame  on  a couch,  and  listened  till 
memory  became  too  keen,  and  I waved  my 
hand  to  him  to  change  the  strain.  He 
obeyed ; but  his  heart  was  in  the  harp  no 
more  ; his  touch  faltered,  the  song  died  away, 
and  he  approached  me  with  a soothingness 
of  voice  and  manner  that  none  would  have 
I desired  to  resist.  “ My  prince,  you  are  un- 
| happy  ; and  if  your  sorrows  can  be  lightened 
j by  any  service  of  mine,  why  not  command 
| me  1”  He  waited  ; but  I was  too  much  ab- 
; sorbed  in  gloomy  speculation.  “ I can  pass 
the  gates,”  he  timidly  continued,  “ if  such  be 
my  lord’s  will.”  I made  a sign  of  dissent; 
for  the  enemy,  since  their  late  surprise,  had 
begun  to  urge  the  seige  with  increased  vigi- 
lance. Yet  my  anxiety  for  the  fate  of  Con- 
stantius, and  scarcely  less  for  that  of  Naomi 
and  her  lover,  must  have  been  visible. 

He  still  lingered  nigh,  watching  the  indi- 
cations that  inward  struggleso  forcibly  paints 
upon  the  external  man.  “ Prince  of  Naph- 
tali,”  said  he,  in  a steadier  tone,  “ among  my 
teachers,  I forgot  to  mention  one,  and  that 
one  the  most  effective  of  all — Self-determi- 
nation ! not  the  mere  disregard  of  personal 
risk,  but  the  intrepidity  of  the  mind.  I loved 
knowledge,  and  I pursued  it  without  fear. 
Nature  is  boundless,  wise,  and  wonderful. 
But  prejudice  bars  up  the  gate  of  knowledge. 
The  man  who  would  learn,  must  despise  the 
timidity  that  shrinks  from  wisdom;  he  must 
hate  the  tyranny  of  opinion  that  condemns 
its  pursuit.  Wisdom  is,  like  beauty,  to  be 
won  only  by  the  bold.” 

I looked  up  at  the  young  pronouncer  of 
the  oracle.  His  countenance,  animated  by 
| the  topic,  wore  an  expression  of  brilliancy 
and  power,  in  which  I should  never  have  re- 
cognized the  delicate  and  dejected  being  that 
he  always  appeared,  except  in  some  moment 
of  sportiveness,  come  and  gone  with  the 
quickness  of  lightning. 

“ Minstrel,  apply  this  to  our  people  or  theil 


Salat  hie/. 


195 


bigoted  and  ignorant  leaders.  I have  no1 
prejudices.” 

“ All  men  have  them,  my  prince.  And ; 
the  only  distinction  is,  that  in  some  they  are^ 
mean,  dark,  malignant;  in  others  they  are 
lofty,  generous,  and  feeling ; yet  they  are  I 
but  the  stronger  for  their  nobleness.  The 
mind  itself  struggles  to  throw  off  the  vile  and ; 
naked  fetter.  But  how  many  forget  the  in- ! 
cumbrance  of  the  chain  of  gold  in  its  pre- 1 
ciousness !”  He  hesitated,  and  then,  with  a 
still  more  elevated  air,  again  began:  “ You 
despise,  for  instance,  the  little  ingenuities  of 
our  profession,  and  I own  that  in  general^ 
they  deserve  nothing  else.  But  if  there  were 
to  come  before  you  some  true  lover  of  nature,  I 
a disciple  of  that  sublimer  philosophy  which  j 
holds  the  secrets  of  her  operations  ; a master 
of  those  superb  influences  which  rule  the 
frame  of  things,  and  yet  more,  guide  the  fates 
of  men  and  nations ; would  not  your  preju- 
dices, and  noble  ones  they  are,  lead  you  to 
repel  the  offer  of  his  knowledge  !” 

Thoughts  tending  to  those  mysteries  had 
so  often  occurred  to  me,  and  my  mind  was 
by  its  original  constitution  so  fond  of  the  ab- 
struse and  the  wild,  that  I listened  with  the 
interest  of  habitual  pleasure  to  the  romance 
of  philosophy.  The  figure  before  me  was 
not  unsuited  to  the  illusion ; slight,  habited 
in  the  fanciful  dress  of  his  art,  a tunic  of  pur- 
ple cloth,  bound  round  the  waist  with  a gir- 
dle; the  turban,  a mere  band  of  scarlet  silk, 
lightly  laid  upon  his  curls.  There  was  in 
this  nothing  that  was  not  to  be  seen  at  every 
hour  in  the  streets;  but,  round  his  waist,  in- 
stead of  the  usual  girdle  of  the  minstrels,  he 
wore  to-night  a large  golden  serpent,  em- 
bossed and  colored  with  a startling  resem-! 
blance  to  life;  and  a broad  golden  circlet 
wrought  with  devices  of  serpents  clasped  his 
brow.  But  the  countenance  was  vividness; 
itself;  not  without  that  occasional  wander- 
ing and  touch  of  melancholy  that  showed; 
where  early  care  has  been;  yet  redeeming 
the  gloom  by  a smile  that  had  the  sweetness1 
and  suddenness  of  the  sun-beam  across  an 
April  shower. 

The  evening  music  of  the  Roman  camps 
roused  me,  as  their  ranks  were  drawn  out 
for  the  customary  exercise.  I turned  from 
them  to  glance  upon  the  battlements,  that 
were  now  crowded  with  stragglers  of  the  tribes 
inhaling  the  air  of  the  fields,  and  like  myself 
gazing  on  the  movements  of  the  enemy.  The 
thought  pressed  on  me,  how  soon  and  how 
terribly  all  this  must  end  ; what  were  the 
multitudes  to  be,  that  now  lived  and  breathed 
beneath  my  glance  ! I turned  from  earth  to 
look  upon  the  west,  where  the  evening  star 
was  lying  on  a rosy  cloud,  like  a spirit  sent 
to  bring  back  tidings  from  this  troubled 
world. 


“ There,  boy,”  said  I,  “ will  your  wisdom 
tell  me  the  story  of  that  star  1 Are  its  peo- 
ple as  mad  as  we  ! Is  there  ambition  on  one 
side  and  folly  on  the  other  ! Are  their  great 
men  the  prey  of  a populace,  and  their  popu- 
lace the  tools  and  the  fools  of  the  great  men! 
Have  they  orators,  to  inflame  their  passions  ; 
lawyers,  to  beggar  them  in  pursuit  of  justice ; 
traders,  to  cheat  them;  heroes  to  give  them 
laurels  and  vanity,  at  the  price  of  blood,  hun- 
ger, and  misery;  and  philosophers,  to  be  the 
worst  plagues  among  them — in  the  midst  of 
perpetual  wonders,  and  baffled  by  every  peb- 
ble under  their  feet ; insensible  to  their  own 
ignorance;  and  with  every  attribute  and 
voice  of  nature  full  of  worship,  wrapping 
themselves  in  the  robe  of  the  scorner,  and 
refusing  their  homage  to  a God!” 

“ Even  that  knowledge,”  said  the  minstrel, 
“ may  not  be  beyond  the  flight  of  the  human 
intellect ; but  prejudices  must  be  first  over- 
come : we  must  learn  to  scorn  names,  defy 
idle  fears,  and  use  the  powers  of  nature  to 
give  us  the  mastery  of  nature.  There  are 
virtues  in  plants,  in  metals,  even  in  words, 
that  to  seek  alarms  the  feeble,  but  to  possess 
constitutes  the  mighty.  There  are  influences 
of  the  air,  of  the  stars,  of  even  the  most  ne- 
glected and  despised  things,  that  may  be  gift- 
ed to  confer  the  sovereignty  of  mankind.” 

I listened  with  the  passive  indulgence  of 
one  listening  under  a spell:  his  voice  had 
the  sweetness  and  flow  of  song,  and  his  lan- 
guage was  made  impressive  by  gestures  of 
striking  intelligence  and  beauty.  He  point- 
ed to  the  skies,  to  the  flowers,  to  the  horizon, 
that  glowed  like  an  ocean  of  amber;  and  his 
fine  countenance  assumed  a new  character 
of  loftiness,  loveliness,  or  repose,  as  he  gazed 
on  the  sublime  or  the  serene. 

“ Boy,”  said  I,  faintly,  “ are  not  those  the 
studies  by  which  the  pagan  world  is  made 
evil !” 

He  smiled.  “ No  ! Light  is  not  farther 
from  darkness  than  wisdom  from  the  super- 
stitions of  the  Pagan.  Rome  is  filled  with 
the  madness  that  fall  upon  idolatry  for  its 
curse — that  has  fallen  since  the  beginning 
of  the  world — that  shall  fall  until  its  end. 
She  is  the  slave  of  spiritual  fear.  This  hour, 
among  the  proudest,  boldest,  wisest,  within 
the  borders  of  Paganism,  there  lives  not  a 
man  unenslaved  by  the  lowest  delusion.  The 
soothsayer,  the  interpreter  of  dreams,  the 
sacrificer,  the  seller  of  the  remains  and  dust 
of  the  dead,  the  miserable  pretender  to  magic ; 
those  are  the  true  rulers  of  the  haughty  em- 
pire— those  are  the  sceptre-bearers,  to  whom 
the  emperor  is  a menial  ; who  laugh  at  au- 
thority, set  counsel  at  naught,  and  are  sap- 
ping the  foundations  of  the  state,  were  they 
deep  as  the  centre,  by  sapping  the  vigor  and 
virtue  of  the  national  mind.” 


196 


Salathiel. 


While  he  spoke  he  was,  with  apparent  un- 
consciousness, sketching  some  outlines  on 
one  of  the  large  marble  slabs  of  the  wall. 
My  eyes  had  followed  the  sun,  until  the  bal- 
cony, darkened  by  an  old  vine,  was  in  the 
depth  of  twilight.  To  my  surprise,  the  mar- 
ble began  to  be  covered  with  fire ; but  fire 
of  the  softest  and  most  silvery  hue.  The 
surprise  was  increased,  by  seeing  this  glow- 
worm lustre  kindle  into  form.  I saw  Con- 
stantius ; and  by  his  side,  Naomi  and  her 
lover.  As  the  lines  grew  clearer  still,  I saw 
them  in  chains,  and  in  a dungeon  ! 

The  extraordinary  information  which  the 
minstrel  had  the  means  of  obtaining,  made 
me  demand,  in  real  alarm,  whether  the  pic- 
ture were  true;  and  that,  if  it  were,  I should 
be  instantly  acquainted  with  whatever  might 
enable  me  to  save  them, 
i “And  trifles  like  those  fires  can  excite 
your  astonishment  !”  he  replied.  “ What  if 
I were  to  tell  you  of  wonders,  such  as  it  has 
not  entered  into  the  mind  of  the  world  to 
conceive;  yet,  which  are  before  us  every 
hour  of  our  lives,  are  mingled  with  every 
thing,  are  grasped  in  our  insensate  hands,  are 
trodden  by  our  careless  feet  1 See  these 
crystals — ” he  scraped  a portion  of  the  nitre 
exuding  from  the  wall ; — “ in  these  is  hidden 
a power  to  which  the  strength  of  man  is  but 
air — to  which  the  mighty  bulwarks  round  us 
are  but  as  the  leaf  on  the  breeze — at  whose 
command  armies  shall  vanish,  mountains 
shake,  empires  perish — the  whole  face  of  so- 
ciety shall  change ; — yet,  by  a sublime  con- 
tradiction, combining  the  greatest  evil  with 
the  greatest  good — the  most  lavish  waste  of 
life  and  happiness,  with  the  most  signal  pro- 
vision for  human  security  and  civilization  ! 

“ Look  on  this  metal,”  said  he,  pointing  to 
some  of  the  leaden  ornaments  of  the  balcony; 
“ and  think  what  is  the  worth  of  human  judg- 
ment. Who  would  give  the  pearl  or  the  dia- 
mond, the  silver  or  the  gold,  for  this  dis- 
colored dress'!  Yet  here  is  the  king  of  met- 
als— the  king  0f  earth:  for  it  can  create, sub- 
due, and  rule  all  that  earth  produces  of  no- 
bleness and  power.  Within  this  dross  are 
treasures  hidden,  more  than  earth  could  buy 
• — truth,  knowledge,  and  freedom.  It  can 
give  the  dead  a new  life,  and  give  the  living 
a new  immortality.  It  can  stoop  the  haught- 
iest usurper  that  ever  sinned  against  man 
into  the  lowest  scorn.  It  can  raise  the  hum- 
blest son  of  obscurity  into  pre-eminence ; and, 
even  without  breaking  in  upon  the  seclusion 
that  he  loves,  make  him  the  benefactor  of  the 
human  race,  and  set  him  forth  crowned  to 
every  future  age  with  involuntary  glory.  It 
can  flash  light  upon  the  darkest  corners  of 
the  earth;  light  never  to  be  extinguished. 
It  can  civilize  the  barbarian  : it  can  pour 
perpetual  increase  of  happiness,  strength,  and 


liberty  round  the  civilized.  It  can  make  feet 
to  itself  that  walk  through  the  dungeon  walls; 
wings  that  the  uttermost  limits  of  the  world 
cannot  weary  ; eyes  to  which  the  darkest 
concealments  of  evil  are  naked  as  the  day; 
intellect  that  darts  through  the  universe,  and 
grasps  the  mightiest  mysteries  of  nature  and 
of  mind  ! But  in  it  too  is  a fearful  power  of 
ruin.  Holding  the  keys  of  opulence  and  em- 
pire, it  can  raise  men  and  nations  to  the  most 
dazzling  height.  But  it  can  stain,  delude, 
and  madden  them,  until  they  become  a worse 
than  pestilence  to  human  nature.” 

While  he  spoke,  his  form  assumed  a gran- 
deur commensurate  to  his  lofty  topics;  the 
power  of  his  voice  awoke  with  the  awaking 
power  of  his  mind.  My  faculties  succumbed 
under  his  presence,  and  I could  only  exclaim  ; 
“ More  of  those  wonders  : give  me  more  of 
those  noble  evidences  of  the  supremacy  of 
man  !” 

“ Man  !”  said  my  strange  enlightener ; 
“ look  upon  him  as  he  is;  and  what  more 
helpless  thing  moves  under  the  canopy  of 
heaven  ! The  prey  of  folly,  the  creature  of 
accident,  the  sport  of  nature : the  surge  whirls 
him  where  he  will ; the  wind  scorns  his  bid- 
ding; the  storm  crushes  him  ; the  lightning 
smites  him.  But,  look  upon  man,  when 
knowledge  has  touched  him  with  her  scep- 
tre.” He  fixed  upon  me  eyes,  from  which 
I thought  the  very  lightnings  gleamed.  The 
circlet  round  his  brow  seemed  to  quiver  and 
sparkle  with  inward  lustre;  the  golden  ser- 
pent that  clasped  his  robe  seemed  to  writhe 
and  revolve.  1 felt  like  one  under  its  fasci- 
nation. A sense  of  danger  thrilled  through 
me,  yet  mixed  with  a dreamy  and  luxurious 
sense  of  enjoyment.  The  air  was  heavy  with 
fragrance;  and  [ sat  listening  in  powerless 
homage  to  a lip  moulded  by  beauty  and  dis- 
dain. 

“ Man,  the  sport  of  nature!”  said  he;  point- 
ing to  a bead  of  dew  that  hung  glittering  on 
the  leaf  of  a vine.  “ Say  man,  the  sovereign 
of  nature  ! With  but  so  feeble  an  instrument 
as  this  dew-drop,  he  might  control  and  scorn 
the  wind  and  the  wave.  Or  would  you  de- 
fy the  storm  in  darkness;  without  sun  or  star 
speed  through  the  unknown  ocean  ; and  add 
a new  world  to  the  old!  Within  this  frag- 
ment lies  the  secret.”  He  struck  ofF  a brown 
splinter  from  the  stone  of  the  balcony.  “ Or 
would  you  behold  regions,  to  which  the  stars 
that  now  blaze  above  our  heads  are  but  the 
portal ; kingdoms  of  light  never  penetrated  by 
mortal  vision  ; generations  of  worlds!  By 
what  splendid  influence  think  you  that  the 
miracle  is  to  be  wrought ! Even  by  this  dust !” 
He  took  up  a few  grains  of  the  sand  at  his 
feet,  and  poured  them  into  my  robe.  He  saw 
his  time.  “ Would  you,”  exclaimed  he,  “ be 
master  of  those  magnificent  secrets!  But 


Salathiel. 


197 


bind  this  girdle  round  you,  and  invoke  the 
name  that  I shall  name.” 

I shuddered  ; the  arts  of  the  diviner  flashed 
upon  me.  But  1 had  listened  too  long  not  to 
be  enfeebled  by  the  temptation.  I felt  the 
passion  which  lost  us  paradise — the  thirst  of 
forbidden  knowledge.  “ Ye  shall  be  as  gods,” 
was  echoing  in  my  soul ! Still  I resisted. 
The  young  deceiver  urged  me  with  more 
distinct  promises.  “ In  your  fate,”  said  he, 
“ the  fate  of  your  nation  is  bound  up.  Has 
it  not  been  declared  that  a great  deliverer 
is  to  come,  by  whom  the  face  of  the  enemies 
of  Judah  is  to  be  withered,  and  the  kingdom 
and  the  sceptre  of  the  earth  given  back  to 
the  hand  of  Israeli  Pledge  yourself  to  me, 
and  be  that  deliverer  ! You  shrink!  Know 
then,  that  while  I speak,  every  creature  of 
your  blood  is  in  chains;  your  house  is  deso- 
late ; your  fortunes  are  overthrown ; you  are 
cut  off,  root  and  branch  ; you  are  exiled — 
desperate — undone.” 

I felt  a dreadful  certainty  that  his  words 
were  true.  My  heart  bled  at  the  picture  of 
ruin.  I wavered.  The  temptation  tingled 
through  my  veins.  “ What  was  the  sacrifice 
of  myself,”  thought  I,  “ wretched  and  sen- 
tenced as  I was,  to  the  preservation  of  beings 
made  for  happiness  1 Or,  was  I to  hesitate, 
let  the  risk  be  what  it  might,  when  virtue, 
patriotism,  and  boundless  knowledge,  were 
added  to  that  preservation!  For  the  trivial 
honors  that  man  could  give  to  man,  the  high- 
est intellects  of  the  earth  had  been  influ- 
enced ; but  the  honors  of  the  restorer  of  Ju- 
dah were  an  immortal  theme, — the  old  splen- 
dors of  triumph  were  pronounced  vain  and 
dim,  the  old  supremacy  of  thrones  weakness 
to  the  domination  and  grandeur  of  the  sov- 
ereign that  should  sway  the  returning  tribes 
of  Sion.” 

The  figure  approached  me ; and  in  a voice 
that  sunk  with  subtle  force  through  every 
nerve,  pronounced  the  vow  that  I was  to 
utter.  I was  terror-struck;  a cloud  came 
over  my  sight;  strange  lights  moved  and 
glittered  before  me.  I felt  the  unspeakable 
dread  that  my  faculties  should  betray  me, 
and  that  I should  unconsciously  yield  to  a 
temptation,  which  yet  I had  no  strength  to 
withstand. 

While  I sat  helpless  and  almost  blind,  I 
was  roused  by  a majestic  voice.  I looked  up. 
Eleazar  was  at  my  side.  1 would  have  flung 
myself  into  his  arms  ; I would  have  cast  my- 
self at  his  feet.  But  there  was  an  indescrib- 
able sensation  that  told  me,  my  noble  brother 
was  to  be  so  approached  no  more.  “ Well 
and  wisely  hast  thou  resisted,”  were  his  so- 
lemn words.  “ For  in  thee  are  the  last  for- 
tunes of  thy  people.  Judea  must  fall:  but, 
fallen  with  her  as  thou  shalt  be  ; and  desolate, 
despairing,  and  wild,  as  shall  be  thy  sojourn ; j 


the  last  blow  of  ruin  to  both  would  be  given, 
i hadst  thou  yielded  to  the  adversary.”  I 
| glanced  at  the  minstrel.  His  visage  was 
horror : he  stood  deformed  like  one  dead  in 
j the  moment  of  torture.  I closed  my  eyes 
• against  the  hideous  spectacle.  A sound  of 
hurrying  footsteps  made  me  open  them  the 
next  instant.  I was  alone ! 


CHAPTER  LVI. 

The  sound  of  the  footsteps  thickened.  Ex- 
hausted and  overwhelmed  as  I was  by  the 
trial  that  my  mind  had  just  undergone,  I sat 
nearly  unconscious  of  external  things,  till  I 
was  roused  by  a strong  grasp  from  behind, 
and  saw  myself  surrounded  by  armed  men. 
I was  passively  bound ; and,  indifferent  to 
fortune,  was  flung  into  a litter,  and  conveyed 
to  the  dungeons  of  the  tower  of  Antonio.  In 
this  vast  circle  of  fortifications,  the  citadel  of 
the  former  Roman  garrison,  the  Jewish  gov- 
ernment was  now  held,  or  rather  Onias  lorded 
it  over  the  population.  He  had  discovered 
my  dwelling;  and  the  first  fruits  of  his 
i knowledge  was  my  seizure  and  that  of  my 
family.  He  was  now  playing  the  last  throw 
of  that  desperate  game  to  which  his  life  had 
been  given.  Power  was  within  his  reach, 
yet  there  I stood  to  thwart  him  once  more  ; 
and  he  was  resolved  to  extinguish  the  first 
source  of  his  danger.  Yet  I was  popular, 
and,  with  all  his  daring,  he  desired  to  cast 
the  odium  of  my  death  on  the  Sanhedrim.  I 
was  to  be  tried  on  the  ground  of  treating  with 
the  enemy  ; my  family  were  seized,  to  shake 
my  courage  by  their  peril ; and  I was  to  be 
forced  to  an  ignominious  confession,  as  the 
price  of  saving  their  lives. 

At  the  mouth  of  the  dungeon,  a torch  was 
put  into  my  hands.  I was  left  to  make  my 
way  ; and  the  iron  door  was  closed,  that 
had  shut  out  many  a wretch  from  light  and 
life.  At  the  bottom  of  the  steps  I found  a 
man  sleeping  tranquilly  on  the  bare  stone. 
The  glare  of  the  torch  disturbed  him  ; he 
(started  up,  and  looking  in  my  face,  exclaimed 
! in  the  buoyant  and  cheerful  tone,  by  which  I 
(should  have  recognized  him  under  any  dis- 
guise, “ By  Jupiter,  I knew  that  we  were  to 
meet ! If  I had  to  sleep  to-night  at  the  bot- 
tom of  the  sea,  I would  wager  my  scimetar 
to  a straw,  that  our  bodies  would  be  found 
lying  side  by  side.  I presume  we  mount  the 
scaffold  together  to-morrow,  for  the  benefit  of 
Jewish  morality.  Well,  then,  since  our  fates 
i are  to  be  joined,  let  us  begin  by — supping  to- 
gether. 

He  laid  his  store  on  the  ground  ; but  I was 
heart-sick  ; and  could  only  question  him  of 
1 1 Naomi  and  the  misfortune  which  had  betrayed 


198 


Salalhiel. 


him  into  the  hands  of  the  tyrant.  “ Our  his- 
tory is  the  briefest  in  the  world,”  was  the  an- 
swer. “ We  found  ourselves  pursued,  and 
we  tied.  The  pursuers  followed  faster  than 
my  fair  mistress  could  run,  or  I carry  her. 
So,  we  were  overtaken  before  we  could  clear 
the  rocks.  And  our  captors  were  forthwith 
carrying  us  to  the  Roman  camp  in  great  joy 
at  their  prize.  But  it  was  intended  to  be  an 
unlucky  day  for  the  legions.  We  came 
across  a Jewish  troop,  headed  by  a fine  bold 
fellow,  who  dashed  upon  the  captors,  and 
fluttered  them  like  a flight  of  pigeons. 
Nothing  could  promise  better  than  the  affair; 
for  my  new  captor  turned  out  to  be  an  old 
friend,  and  one  of  the  most  gallant  that  ever  j 
commanded  a trireme.  Many  a day  the  Cy-  1 
priot  and  I chased  (Nemesis  forgive  us  for 
it!)  the  pirates  through  the  Cyclades;  I 
however,  did  not  know  then,  what  pleasant 
personages  the  brothers  of  the  free-trade 
might  be.”  He  smiled;  and  the  sigh  that 
followed  the  smile,  told  how  little  he  had 
since  found  to  compensate  for  his  old  adven- 
tures. 

“ Your  captor  was  my  son,  my  heroic  Con- 
stantins!” I exclaimed. 

“The  very  man.  When  he  found  me 
out  under  my  Arab  trappings,  he  was  all 
hospitality,  and  invited  me  to  share  the  hon- 
ors of  his  princely  father’s  house.  His  troop 
soon  scattered,  every  man  to  his  home;  and 
I was  gazing  at  the  head  of  an  incomparable 
knave  and  early  acquaintance,  Jonathan, 
nailed  up  over  the  gate  for  some  villainy 
which  he  had  not  been  as  adroit  as  usual  in 
turning  to  profit;  when  Constantius,  myself,  < 
and  that  lovely  and  innocent  girl,  whom  I 
shall  never  see  more” — he  stooped  his  brow 
at  the  recollection — “ were  seized  by  the 
guard,  separated,  and  sent,  1 suppose,  alike  to 
the  dungeon.” 

Shortly  after  midnight  I was  brought  be- 
fore the  tribunal.  Onias  was  my  accuser, 
and  I was  astonished  at  the  dexterity,  num- 
ber, and  plausibility  of  bis  charges — magic, 
treachery,  denial  of  my  services  to  the  coun- 
try, the  betrayal  of  my  army,  the  refusal  to 
push  the  defeated  enemy  to  a surrender,  lest 
by  the  cessation  of  war,  my  ambition  should 
be  deprived  of  its  object ; and  last,  and  most  I 
astonishing,  the  assassination  of  my  kinsman  i 
Jubal,  through  fear  of  his  testimony. 

1 made  my  defence  with  the  fearlessness  < 
of  one  weary  of  life,  and  with  the  force  of 
truth.  Some  of  the  charges  I explained;  i 
others  I promptly  and  effectually  repelled. 
To  the  imputation  of  treachery,  I answered 
in  a single  sentence — “Read  that  correspon-  ( 
dence  with  the  enemy,  and  judge  which  is  t 
the  traitor.”  I took  the  Egyptian’s  papers  i 
from  my  sash,  and  flung  them  on  the  table.  < 

The  aspect  of  my  accuser  at  the  words,  i 


was  one  that  might  have  made  his  sternest 
hater  pity  him.  He  gasped — he  trembled — 
he  gnashed  his  teeth  in  rage  and  terror  ; and, 
finally,  took  refuge  in  the  ranks  of  his  follow- 
ers. But  the  judges  themselves  were  in 
visible  perplexity  : they  looked  over  the  pa- 
pers, held  them  to  the  lamps,  and  examined 
them  in  all  imaginable  ways;  until  the  chief 
of  the  Sanhedrim  rising,  with  a frown  that 
fixed  all  eyes  on  me,  flung  the  papers  at  my 
feet.  The  deepest  silence  was  round  me  as 
1 took  up  the  rejected  proofs.  To  my  aston- 
ishment, they  were  utterly  blank  ! 

I now  recollected  that,  on  my  entrance,  I 
had  been  pressed  upon  by  the  crowd.  In 
| that  moment  the  false  papers  must  have  been 
: substituted.  I saw  the  Egyptian  gliding 
away  from  the  side  of  Onias,  and  saw  by  the 
countenance  of  my  accuser,  that  the  tidings 
of  the  robbery  had  just  reached  him.  He  rose 
and  declaimed  against  me  with  renewed 
energy.  He  was  eloquent  by  nature ; the 
habit  of  public  affairs  had  given  even  the 
form  of  his  speaking  that  character  of  practi- 
cal vigor  and  reality,  which  is  essential  to 
great  public  impression  : his  passions  were 
inflamed  ; his  fortunes  hung  in  the  scale — 
perhaps  his  life;  and  he  poured  out  the  whole 
collected  impulse  in  a torrent  of  the  boldest 
and  most  nervous  declamation  upon  my  head. 
But  my  name  was  high  ; my  rank  was  not  to 
be  lightly  assailed ; my  national  services 
were  felt;  and  even  the  corrupt  judicature 
summoned  for  my  ruin,  were  not  so  insen- 
sible to  popular  feeling,  as  to  violate  the 
forms  of  law  to  crush  me.  The  trial  lasted 
during  the  night.  I had  the  misery  to  see 
my  wife,  my  children,  Constantius,  Naomi, 
my  domestics,  my  fellow-warriors,  every  hu- 
man being  whom  there  was  a chance  of  per- 
plexing or  terrifying  into  testimony,  brought 
forward  against  me.  As  a last  resource,  on 
the  secret  suggestion  of  the  Egyptian,  who 
had  his  own  revenge  to  satisfy,  the  adven- 
tures of  the  pirates’  cavern  were  declaimed 
upon ; and  the  captain  was  summoned  from 
his  cell.  His  figure  and  noble  physiognomy 
made  him  conspicuous,  and  a general  mur- 
mur of  admiration  arose,  on  his  advance  to 
the  tribunal.  Miriam  was  at  my  side.  I 
felt  her  tremble  ; her  color  went  and  came  ; 
and  she  drank  in  every  tone  of  his  voice  with 
intense  anxiety.  But  when,  in  answer  to  the 
questions  of  Onias,  he  detailed  his  story,  and 
in  answer  to  his  charge  of  being  an  enemy, 
denied  that  he  was  either  Roman  or  Greek, 
Miriam’s  spirit  hung  upon  every  word. 

“A  soldier’s  best  pedigree,”  said  he,  con- 
cluding, “ is  his  sword.  I know  no  more  than 
that  I was  reared  in  the  house  of  a Cypriot 
noble,  to  whom  I had  been  brought  by  a tra- 
der of  Alexandria.  My  protector  made  me  a 
sailor,  and  would  have  made  me  his  heir; 


Salathiel. 


199 


bat  Roman  insolence  disgusted  me,  and  I left 
my  command  ; bearing  with  me  no  other  in- 
heritance than  a heart  too  proud  for  slavery, 
my  sctmetar,  and  this  signet,  which  I have 
borne  from  my  infancy.”  He  took  from  his 
bosom  a large  sculptured  gem,  fastened  to  a 
chain  of  pearls.  Miriam  put  forth  her  trem- 
bling hand  for  it,  read,  with  a startling  eye, 
her  own  name  and  mine,  and  exclaiming, — 
“ My  son  ! my  son  !”  tottered  forward,  and 
fell  fainting  into  his  arms. 

I flew  to  them  both,  and  never  did  my  woe- 
worn  heart  beat  with  keener  joy,  than  when 
I too  clasped  my  son,  my  long-lost,  my  first- 
born. Yet  clouds  gathered  instantly.  Was 
he  not  come  to  take  the  earliest  embrace  of 
his  parents,  in  the  crisis  of  their  fate, — the 
promise  of  an  unbroken  lineage,  given  in  the 
days  when  my  country  was  in  the  jaws  of 
destruction ; — the  son,  the  brother,  the  hus- 
band, awaking  to  those  loveliest  and  happiest 
ties  of  our  nature,  only  when  the  axe  of  the 
traitor,  or  the  sword  of  the  enemy  was  up- 
lifted to  cut  them  asunder  for  ever ; — the 
prince,  the  patriot,  the  warrior,  summoned 
to  the  first  exercise  of  his  noble  rights  and 
duties,  when  in  the  next  hour  a heap  of  dust 
might  be  all  that  was  left  of  himself,  his 
family,  and  his  people! 

1 clung  to  him  with  a fondness  thirsting  to 
repay  its  long  arrear.  His  desertion  in  the 
hands  of  strangers ; the  early  hardships ; the 
loss  of  a mother’s  love  and  a father’s  protec- 
tion; the  insults  and  privations  that  the 
struggler  through  the  world  must  bear;  the 
desperate  hazards  of  his  life  ; even  the  errors 
into  which  necessity  and  circumstances  had 
driven  him,  rose  up  in  judgment  against  me  ; 
and  I reproached  myself  for  the  accident, 
perhaps  the  irresistible  accident,  that  gave 
my  infant  to  the  roaring  waters. 

But  the  tears  and  exclamations  of  the  peo- 
ple round  us  recalled  us.  I might  then  have 
walked  from  the  hall  without  any  man’s  dar- 
ing to  lay  a hand  upon  me ; for  the  public 
feeling,  touched  by  the  discovery  of  my  son, 
was  loud  for  my  instant  liberation.  But  1 
was  not  to  be  satisfied"  with  this  imperfect 
justice,  and  demanded  that  the  tribunal  should 
proceed. 

The  presence  of  my  family  was  felt  to  be 
too  strong  for  the  fears  of  my  accuser ; and, 
demanding  no  defence  but  truth,  I implored 
of  them  to  retire.  An  impression,  like  that 
of  the  warning  of  a superior  spirit,  struck  on 
my  mind  as  1 pronounced  the  word.  It  told 
me  that  I had  spoken  the  sentence  of  utter 
separation.  They  came  hand  in  hand  to  bid 
me  farewell.  Constantius  and  Salome  knelt 
before  me  for  final  forgiveness.  My  son  and 
his  betrothed  bowed  their  heads  to  ask  my 
blessing.  Miriam  and  Esther  came  last,  and 
silently  hung  upon  my  neck,  dissolved  in [ 


tears  of  matchless  anguish  and  love.  I lifted 
my  eyes  and  heart  to  Heaven,  and  though 
oppressed  with  the  terrible  convictions  of  my 
own  fate,  prayed  for  them,  and  put  forth  my 
hands,  and  blessed  them  in  the  name  of  the 
God  of  Israel.  I saw  them  pass  away.  My 
firmness  could  bear  no  more  : I wept  aloui 
But  with  my  sorrow  there  was  given  a hope 
—a  light  across  the  gloom  of  my  soul. 
When  I saw  their  stately  forms  solemnly 
move  along  through  the  fierce  and  guilty 
multitude,  and  the  distant  portal  shut  upon 
them,  I thought  of  the  sons  and  daughters  of 
the  great  patriarch,  passing  within  the  door 
of  the  ark,  from  the  midst  of  a condemned 
world. 

The  night  was  worn  out;  the  people  ex- 
hausted by  the  length  of  the  trial,  protracted 
for  the  purpose,  had  left  the  hall  nearly 
empty  ; and  Onias,  now  secure  of  a tribunal 
that  dreaded  nothing  but  the  public  eye, 
urged  the  decision.  The  judges  were  his 
creatures,  through  corruption  or  fear;  his 
followers  alone  remained.  Sure  to  be  crushed, 
the  fluctuations  of  hope  were  gone;  and  I lis- 
tened to  the  powerful  and  high-wrought  ha- 
rangue of  my  enemy  without  a movement  but 
of  admiration  for  his  extraordinary  po  wers,  or 
of  pity  for  their  perverter.  While  he  stood 
drinking  in  with  ears  and  eyes  the  wonder 
and  homage  of  the  audience,  I myself  called 
for  sentence.  “ Scorning,”  said  I,  “ to  rea- 
son with  understandings  that  will  not  com- 
prehend, and  consciences  that  cannot  feel,  I 
appeal  from  the  man  of  blood,  to  the  God  of 
mercies ; from  the  worse  than  man  of  blood, 
from  the  corrupter  of  justice,  to  Him  who 
shall  judge  the  judge ; to  the  Mighty  and  the 
Holy  One,  who  shall  yet  pass  sentence  in  the 
sight  of  earth  and  heaven.” 

The  chief  assessor  rose  ; my  condemnation 
was  upon  a lip  quivering  and  pale ; he  had 
already  in  his  hands  the  border  of  the  robe 
which  he  was  to  rend,  in  sign  that  the  ac- 
cused was  rent  from  Israel.  A confusion  at' 
the  portal  checked  him ; and  the  words  re- 
sounded, “Beware!  shed  not  the  innocent 
blood  !”  The  voice  was  as  a voice  from  the 
sepulchre  ; deep,  melancholy,  but  searching 
to  the  very  heart.  The  guard  gave  way ; 
and  a man,  covered  from  head  to  foot  with  a 
sepulchral  garment,  rushed  up  the  immense 
hall.  At  the  foot  of  the  tribunal  he  flung  off 
the  garment,  and  disclosed  a face  and  form 
that  well  might  have  ranked  him  among  the 
dwellers  of  the  grave. 

“ I have  come  from  the  tombs,”  exclaimed 
he  : “I  had  lain  down  to  die  in  the  resting- 
place  of  my  fathers,  in  the  valley  of  Jehosa- 
phat.  A man  in  white  raiment  stood  beside 
me,  and  commanded  me  to  come,  and  bear 
witness  of  the  truth.  The  Romans  were 
round  me — he  led  me  through  them ; the 


200 


Salathiel. 


battlements  were  before  me — he  led  me 
through  them  ; riot,  fury,  and  frenzy,  stood 
in  my  path  through  your  city — he  led  me 
through  them  ; — and  lo  ! here  I come,  and 
proclaim  by  his  command,  ‘ Beware  ! — shed 
not  the  innocent  blood.’  ” Onias  stood  par- 
alyzed. No  memory  of  mine  could  recall  the 
haggard  features  of  the  stranger.  The  chief 
of  the  tribunal,  in  manifest  confusion,  re- 
quired his  name.  “ My  name,”  he  answered, 
with  a wild  waive  of  his  hand,  “is  nothing — 
air — is  gone.  What  I was,  is  past;  what  I 
shall  be,  the  tomb  alone  must  tell : but  what 
I am,  is  the  witness  commissioned  to  pro- 
claim Onias  the  betrayer  of  the  blood  of  your 
nobles — the  slave  of  Rome — the  traitor  to  his 
country  and  his  religion.”  All  hands  were 
lifted  up  in  astonishment.  Onias,  sick  at 
heart,  made  a feeble  gesture  of  denial. 
“ Dares  the  traitor  deny  his  own  hand-writ- 
ing 1”  was  the  indignant  reply.  “ Let  him 
read  his  treason,  committed  within  these 
twelve  hours !”  He  stalked  over  to  the 
guilty  Onias,  and  held  his  letters  to  the 
Roman  general  before  his  shrinking  eye. 

But  what  was  his  truth  or  falsehood  to 
me?  I was  marked  for  vengeance.  While 
my  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  portal  through 
which  had  vanished  my  last  hope  of  happi- 
ness, I was  startled  by  an  outcry,  and  I saw 
the  gleam  of  steel  at  my  throat.  Onias,  in 
despair  of  smiting  me  by  the  arm  of  the  law, 
had  made  a frenzied  effort  to  destroy  me  by 
his  own.  Quick  as  lightning  the  stranger 
threw  himself  between  us  and  grasped  the 
assassin ; they  struggled — they  were  in- 
volved in  the  large  and  loose  robe,  and  fell 
together.  I dashed  forward  to  separate  them. 
But  the  deed  was  done.  Onias  lay  rolling 
upon  the  ground  ; the  dagger  was  in  the 
6tranger’s  grasp,  and  it  was  crimson  to  the 
hilt.  I could  feel  no  vindictiveness  against 
the  dying,  and  I offered  him  my  hand.  He 
threw  a violent  expression  of  scorn  into  his 
stiffening  features,  and  cried,  at  convulsive 
intervals — “ No  compassion — no  hypocrisy 
for  me — I die  as  I lived.  I hated  you,  for 
you  thwarted  me.  You  have  the  best  of  the 
game  now  ; but  if  I had  lived  till  to-morrow, 
1 should  have  been  lord  of  Jerusalem.  The 
Romans  will  settle  all.  You  and  yours  would 
have  been  in  my  power.  You  shall  perish. 
That  boy  is  your  son  ; he  was  brought  to  me 
in  his  infancy  ; I hated  you  as  my  rival ; and 
I swore  that  you  should  never  see  your  first- 
born again.  I sold  him  to  an  Alexandrian. 
You  shall  not  live  to  triumph  over  me;  your 
dungeon  shall  be  your  tomb  ; another  night, 
and  you  sleep  no  more,  or  sleep  forever.” 
He  gathered  his  mantle  over  his  face  and 
died. 

His  followers,  after  the  first  consternation, 
demanded  vengeance  on  the  stranger.  But 


it  was  now  rny  time  to  protect  him,  and  I 
insisted  on  his  right  of  self-defence,  and  de- 
clared that  no  man  should  strike  him  but 
through  me.  “ This  is  noble  and  generous,” 
interrupted  he,  “ but  useless.  I too  am  dy- 
ing. But  I rejoice  that  I am  dying  by  the 
wound  meant  for  you.  Have  I at  last  atoned  ? 
Have  you  forgotten  ? Can  you  forgive  ? 
Then,  prince  of  Naphtali,  lay  your  hand  upon 
this  heart,  and  while  it  beats,  believe  that 
there  you  are  honored.  Time  has  changed 
me ; misery  has  extinguished  the  last  trace 
of  what  I was.  Farewell,  my  kinsman,  friend, 
chieftain;  and  remember — Jubal.”  I caught 
him  in  my  arms;  my  heart  melted  at  his  suf- 
ferings— his  generous  attachment — his  heroic 
devotion — his  deep  repentance.  “ You  have 
more  than  atoned,”  I exclaimed;  “you  are 
more  than  forgiven.  Live,  my  manly,  kind, 
high-hearted  Jubal ; live  for  the  honor  of  your 
race — of  your  country — of  human  nature.” 
He  looked  up  with  a smile  of  gratitude,  and 
faintly  uttering,  “ I die  happy,”  breathed  in 
my  arms  the  last  breath  of  one  of  the  most 
gallant  spirits  that  ever  left  the  world. 

Loud  shouts  abroad,  and  blazes  that  colored 
the  roof  with  long  columns  of  lurid  light,  put 
an  end  to  the  deliberation  of  the  tribunal. 
The  enemy  were  assaulting  the  citadel ; and 
the  mockery  of  justice  was  summarily  closed 
by  returning  me  to  my  dungeon,  to  await 
times  fitter  for  the  calmness  of  judicial  mur- 
der. 

The  assault  continued  for  some  hours;  but 
to  my  cavern,  sunk  in  the  very  foundations 
of  the  fortress,  day  never  came ; and  I lay, 
still  buried  in  darkness,  when  I heard  sounds 
like  the  blows  of  pickaxes;  and  from  time  to 
time  the  fall  of  heavy  bodies,  followed  by  a 
roar.  The  air  grew  close ; and  chill  as  the 
dungeon  had  been,  1 experienced  a sensation 
of  heat  still  more  painful.  The  heat  increased 
rapidly.  I tried  to  avoid  it  by  shifting  my 
place  in  the  large  vault,  which  had  been 
originally  a granary.  But  the  evil  was  not 
to  be  baffled  ; the  air  grew  hotter  and  hotter. 
I flung  myself  on  the  pavement  to  draw  a 
cool  breath  from  the  stones : they  began  to 
glow  under  me.  I ran  to  the  door  of  the  dun- 
geon : it  was  iron,  and  the  touch  scorched 
me.  In  alarm  at  the  most  hideous  of  all 
deaths,  I shouted,  I tore  at  the  walls,  at  the 
massive  rings  in  the  floor,  less  perhaps  from 
the  hope  of  thus  escaping,  than  from  the 
vague  eagerness  to  deaden  present  pain  by 
violent  effort.  But  I tore  up  the  pavement, 
and  shook  down  the  fragment  of  the  walls  in 
vain.  The  walls  themselves  began  to  split 
with  the  heat ; smoke  eddied  through  the  crev- 
ices of  the  immense  stones;  and  the  dungeon 
was  filled  with  fiery  vapor.  My  raiment  en- 
cumbered me  ; I tore  it  away,  and,  on  the 
floor,  saw  it  fall  in  ashes.  I felt  the  agonies 


Salathicl. 


201 


of  suffocation ; and  at  last,  helpless  and  hope- 
less, threw  myself  down,  like  my  raiment,  to 
be  consumed. 

I had  scarcely  touched  the  stone,  when  I 
felt  it  shake  and  vibrate  from  side  to  side. 
A hollow  noise,  like  distant  thunder,  echoed 
through  the  vault:  the  walls  shook,  collapsed, 
opened,  and  I was  plunged  down  a chasm, 
and  continued  rolling  for  some  moments  in  a 
whirl  of  stones,  dust,  earth,  and  smoke. 
When  it  subsided  I found  myself  lying  on  the 
green  sward,  in  noon-day,  at  the  bottom  of  a 
valley,  with  the  tower  of  Antonia,  covered 
with  the  legionaries,  five  hundred  feet  above 
me. 

The  remnants  of  huge  fires,  round  pillars 
of  timber,  explained  the  mystery.  The  ene- 
my had  undermined  the  wall ; and,  by  burn- 
ing the  props,  had  brought  it  down  at  the 
time  of  their  assault.  Onias,  the  planner  of 
the  attack,  for  which  he  was  to  be  repaid 
with  the  proeuratorship  of  Judea,  had  placed 
me  in  the  spot  where  ruin  was  to  begin,  and 
cheered  his  dying  moments  with  the  certain- 
ty that,  acquitted  or  not,  there  I must  be  un- 
done. 

I long  lay  confused  and  powerless  among 
the  ruins.  But  the  twilight  air  revived  me ; 
and  I crept  through  the  deserted  intrench- 
ments  of  the  enemy,  until  I reached  one  of 
the  gates;  where  I announced  my  name,  and 
was  received  with  rejoicings. 

The  heart  of  my  countrymen  was  heroic 
to  the  last,  and  deeply  was  its  heroism  now 
demanded  ; for  the  whole  force  of  the  enemy 
had  been  brought  up  for  final  assault ; and 
when  I entered,  every  portion  of  the  walls 
was  the  scene  of  unexampled  battle.  Where 
the  ground  suffered  the  approach  of  troops, 
the  enemy’s  columns,  headed  by  archers  and 
slingers  innumerable,  rushed  to  the  rampart, 
climbing  up  the  breaches  with  their  shields 
over  their  heads.  Against  the  towers  were 
wheeled  towers  filled  with  troops,  who  de- 
scended on  the  wall,  and  fought  us  hand  to 
hand.  We  felt  the  perpetual  blows  of  the 
battering-rams  shaking  the  battlements  under 
our  feet.  Where  the  ground  repelled  direct 
assault,  there  military  machines  poured 
havoc,  and  those  were  the  most  dreadful  of 
all. 

The  skill  of  man,  exerted  for  ages  on  the 
arts  of  compendious  slaughter,  has  scarcely 
produced  the  equals  of  those  horrible  engines. 
They  threw  masses  of  inextinguishable  fire, 
of  boiling  water,  of  burning  oil,  of  red-hot 
flints,  of  molten  metal,  from  distances  that 
precluded  defence,  and  with  a force  that 
nothing  could  resist.  The  catapult  shot 
stones  of  a hundred  weight  from  the  distance 
of  furlongs,  with  the  straightness  of  an  arrow, 
and  with  an  impulse  that  ground  every  thing 
in  their  way  to  powder.  The  fortitude  that 


scorned  the  Roman  spear,  and  exulted  in  the 
sight  of  the  columns  mounting  the  scaling 
ladders,  as  mounting  to  sure  destruction, 
quailed  before  the  tremendous  power  of  the 
catapult.  The  singular  and  ominous  cry  of 
the  watcher  that  gave  notice  of  its  discharge, 
“ The  son  cometh,”  was  a sound  that  pros- 
trated every  man  upon  his  face,  until  the 
crash  of  the  walls  told  that  the  blow  was 
given. 

Every  thought  that  I had  now  for  earth 
was  in  the  tower  of  Antonia.  But  there  the 
legions  rendered  approach  impossible  ; and  I 
could  only  gaze  from  a distance,  and  see,  in 
the  bitterness  of  my  soul,  the  enemy  gradu- 
ally forcing  their  way  from  rampart  to  ram- 
part. It  was  in  vain  that  I strove  to  collect 
a few  who  would  aid  me  in  a desperate  at- 
tempt to  succor  its  defenders.  I was  ieft 
alone  ; and  sadly  sitting  on  the  battlements, 
I took  the  chance  of  some  friendly  spear  or 
stone.  Through  all  the  roar  I heard  the 
voice  of  Sabat  the  Ishmaelite ; the  eternal 
“ Woe  ! — woe  ! — woe  !”  loud  as  ever,  and  in 
appalling  unison  with  the  hour.  He  came 
rushing  along  the  wall  with  the  same  rapid 
and  vigorous  stride  as  of  old ; but  his  be- 
trothed no  longer  followed  him.  She  was 
borne  in  his  arms ! The  stones  from  the  en- 
gines thundered  against  the  wall ; they  tore 
up  the  strong  buttresses  like  weeds;  they 
struck  away  whole  ranks  of  men,  and  whirled 
their  remnants  through  the  air.  They  lev- 
eled towers,  and  swept  battlements  away 
with  their  defenders  at  a blow.  But  Sabat 
moved  unshrinking  on  his  wild  mission.  His 
cry  vvas  terrible  prophecy.  “ A voice  from 
the  east,  a voice  from  the  west,  a voice  from 
the  four  winds,  a voice  against  Jerusalem 
and  the  holy  house,  a voice  against  the  bride- 
grooms and  the  brides,  a voice  against  this 
whole  people.” 

He  stopped  before  me ; and  pointing  to  the 
face  of  his  bride,  said,  with  sudden  faltering 
and  tears,  “She  is  gone,  she  is  dead.  She 
died  last  twilight.  I promised  to  die  too. 
She  follows  me  no  more ; it  is  I that  must 
follow  her.”  Death  was  in  his  face ; and 
my  only  wonder  was,  that  a form  so  utterly 
reduced  could  live  and  move.  I offered  him 
some  provision  from  the  basket  of  a dead  sol- 
dier at  my  feet.  For  the  first  time,  he  took 
it,  thanked  me,  and  ate.  Not  less  to  my  sur- 
prise, he  continued  gazing  round  him  on  the 
movements  of  the  enemy,  on  the  temple,  the 
tower  of  Antonia,  and  the  hills.  But  his  sta- 
tion was  eminently  perilous,  and  I pointed 
out  one  of  the  largest  of  the  military  engines 
taking  its  position  to  play  upon  the  spot  where 
we  were.  He  refused  to  stir.  “ The  look 
may  be  long,”  said  he,  “ when  a man  looks 
his  last.”  I heard  the  roar  of  the  engine,  and 
leaped  from  the  rampart,  to  escape  the  dis- 


202 


Salalhiel. 


charge.  Sabat  stood,  and  again  began  his 
cry : “ Woe  to  the  city,  and  to  the  holy  house, 
and  to  the  people.”  The  discharge  tore  up  a 
large  portion  of  the  battlement.  Sabat  never 
moved  limb  nor  feature.  The  wall  was  cut 
away  on  his  right  and  left,  as  if  it  had  been 
cut  with  an  axe.  He  stood  calmly  on  the 
projecting  fragment,  with  his  lips  to  the  lips 
of  his  bride.  I saw  the  engine  leveled  again, 
and  again  called  to  him  to  escape.  He  gave 
me  no  answer  but  a melancholy  smile  ; and 
crying  out  with  a voice  that  filled  the  air, 
“ Woe,  to  myself!”  stood.  I heard  the  rush 
of  the  stone.  It  smote  Sabat  and  his  bride 
into  atoms ! 

The  fall  of  our  illustrious  and  unhappy  city 
was  supernatural.  The  destruction  of  the 
conquered  was  against  the  first  principles  of 
Roman  polity;  and,  to  the  last  hour  of  our 
national  existence,  Rome  held  out  offers  of 
peace,  and  lamented  our  frantic  determina- 
tion to  be  undone.  But  the  decree  was  gone 
forth  from  a mightier  throne.  During  the 
latter  days  of  the  seige,  a hostility  to  which 
that  of  man  was  as  the  grain  of  sand  to  the 
tempest  that  drives  it  on,  overpowered  our 
strength  and  senses.  Fearful  shapes  and 
voices  in  the  air ; visions  startling  us  from 
our  short  and  troubled  sleep ; lunacy  in  its 
most  hideous  forms;  sudden  death  in  the 
midst  of  vigor  ; the  fury  of  the  elements  let 
loose  upon  our  unsheltered  heads;  we  had 
every  terror  and  evil  that  could  beset  human 
nature,  but  pestilence;  the  most  probable  of 
all  in  a city  crowded  with  the  famishing,  the 
diseased,  the  wounded,  and  the  dead.  Yet, 
though  the  streets  were  covered  with  the  un- 
buried ; though  every  wall  and  trench  was 
teeming;  though  six  hundred  thousand 
corpses  lay  flung  over  the  rampart,  and 
naked  to  the  sun — pestilence  came  not ; for 
if  it  had  come,  the  enemy  would  have  been 
scared  away.  But  the  “ abomination  of  deso- 
lation,” the  pagan  standard,  was  fixed : 
where  it  was  to  remain  until  the  plough 
passed  over  the  ruins  of  Jerusalem  ! 

On  this  night,  this  fatal  night,  no  man  laid 
his  head  upon  his  pillow.  Heaven  and  earth 
were  in  conflict.  Meteors  burned  above  us; 
the  ground  shook  under  our  feet;  the  volcano 
blazed  ; the  wind  burst  forth  in  irresistible 
blasts,  and  swept  the  living  and  the  dead  in 
whirlwinds  far  into  the  desert.  We  heard 
the  bellowing  of  the  distant  Mediterranean, 
as  if  its  waters  were  at  our  side,  swelled  by 
a new  deluge.  The  lakes  and  rivers  roared, 
and  inundated  the  land.  The  fiery  sword 
shot  out  tenfold  fire.  Showers  of  blood  fell. 
Thunder  pealed  from  every  quarter  of  the 
heaven.  Lightning  in  immense  sheets,  of 
an  intensity  and  duration  that  turned  the 
darkness  into  more  than  day,  withering  eye 
and  soul,  burned  from  the  zenith  to  the 


ground,  and  marked  its  track  by  forests  on 
flame,  and  the  shattered  summits  of  the 
hills. 

Defence  was  unthought  of : for  the  mortal 
enemy  had  past  from  the  mind.  Our  hearts 
quaked  for  fear.  But  it  was,  to  see  the  pow- 
ers of  heaven  shaken..  All  cast  away  the 
shield  and  the  spear,  and  crouched  before  the 
descending  judgment.  We  were  conscience- 
smitten.  Our  cries  of  remorse,  anguish,  and 
horror,  were  heard  through  the  uproar  of  the 
storm.  We  howled  to  the  caverns  to  hide 
us:  we  plunged  into  the  sepulchres  to  es- 
cape the  wrath  that  consumed  the  living ; 
we  would  have  buried  ourselves  under  the 
mountains. 

I knew  the  cause,  the  unspeakable  cause; 
and  knew  that  the  last  hour  of  crime  was  at 
hand.  A few  fugitives,  astonished  to  see  one 
man  among  them  not  sunk  into  the  lowest 
feebleness  of  fear,  came  round  me,  and  be- 
sought me  to  lead  them  to  some  place  of 
safety,  if  such  were  now  to  be  found  on  earth. 
I told  them  openly,  that  they  were  to  die; 
and  counseled  them  to  die  in  the  hallowed 
ground  of  the  Temple.  They  followed  ; and 
I led  them,  through  streets  encumbered  with 
every  shape  of  human  suffering,  to  the  foot 
of  Mount  Moriah.  But  beyond  that,  we  found 
advance  impossible.  Piles  of  cloud,  whose 
darkness  was  palpable  even  in  the  midnight 
in  which  we  stood,  covered  the  holy  hill. 
Impatient,  and  not  to  be  daunted  by  any  thing 
that  man  could  overcome,  1 cheered  my  dis- 
heartened band,  and  attempted  to  lead  the 
way  up  the  ascent.  But  I had  scarcely  en- 
tered the  cloud,  when  I was  swept  downward 
by  a gust,  that  tore  the  rocks  in  a flinty 
shower  round  me. 

Now  came  the  last  and  most  wonderoaa 
sign  that  marked  the  fate  of  rejected  Israel. 

While  I lay  helpless,  I heard  the  whirl- 
wind roar  through  the  cloudy  hill ; and  the 
vapors  began  to  revolve.  A pale  light,  like 
that  of  the  rising  moon,  quivered  on  their 
edges;  and  the  clouds  rose,  and  rapidly 
shaped  themselves  into  the  forms  of  battle- 
ments and  towers.  The  sound  of  voices  was 
heard  within,  low  and  distant,  yet  strangely 
sweet.  Still  the  lustre  brightened,  and  the 
airy  building  rose,  tower  on  tower,  and  bat- 
tlement on  battlement.  In  awe  that  held  us 
mute,  we  knelt  and  gazed  upon  this  more 
than  mortal  architecture,  that  continued  ris- 
ing and  spreading,  and  glowing  with  aserener 
light,  still  soft  and  silvery,  yet  to  which  the 
broadest  moon-beam  was  dim.  At  last,  it 
stood  forth  to  earth  and  heaven  the  colossal 
image  of  the  first  Temple,  of  the  building 
raised  by  the  wisest  of  men,  and  consecrated 
by  the  visible  glory.  All  Jerusalem  saw  the 
image  ; and  the  shout  that  in  the  midst  of 
their  despair  ascended  from  its  thousands  and 


Salathiel. 


203 


tens  of  thousands,  told  what  proud  remem- 
brances were  there.  But  a hymn  was  heard, 
that  might  have  hushed  the  world  beside. 
Never  fell  on  my  ear,  never  on  the  human 
sense,  a sound  so  majestic,  yet  so  subduing; 
so  full  of  melancholy,  yet  of  grandeur  and 
command.  The  vast  portal  opened,  and  from 
it  marched  a host,  such  as  man  had  never 
seen  before,  such  as  man  shall  never  see  but 
once  again  ; the  guardian  angels  of  the  city 
of  David  ! — they  came  forth  glorious ; but 
with  woe  in  all  their  steps ; the  stars  upon 
their  helmets  dim ; their  robes  stained  ; tears 
flowing  down  their  celestial  beauty.  “ Let 
us  go  hence,”  was  their  song  of  sorrow.  “ Let 
us  go  hence,”  was  answered  by  the  sad  echoes 
of  the  mountains.  “ Let  us  go  hence,”  swell- 
ed upon  the  night,  to  the  farthest  limits  of 
the  land.  The  procession  lingered  long  on 
the  summit  of  the  hill.  The  thunder  pealed ; 
and  they  rose  at  the  command,  diffusing  waves 
of  light  over  the  expanse  of  heaven.  Their 
chorus  was  heard,  still  magnificent  and  melan- 
choly, when  their  splendor  was  diminished  to 
the  brightness  of  a star.  Then  the  thunder 
roared  again  ; the  cloudy  temple  was  scat- 
tered on  the  winds;  and  darkness,  the  omen 
of  her  grave,  settled  upon  Jerusalem. 

I was  roused  from  deep  reverie  by  the 
voice  of  a man.  “ What !”  said  he,  “ sitting 
here,  when  all  the  world  is  awake!  Poring 
over  the  faces  of  dead  men,  when  you  should 
be  the  foremost  among  the  living!  All  Jeru- 
salem in  arms ; and  yet  you  scorn  your  time 
to  gain  laurels!”  The  haughty  and  sarcastic 
tone  was  familiar  to  my  recollection  ; but  to 
see,  as  I did,  a Roman  soldier  within  a few 
feet  of  me,  was  enough  to  make  me  spring 
up,  and  draw  my  scimetar,  careless  of  con- 
sequences. “ You  ought  to  know  me,”  said 
he,  without  moving  a muscle;  “for,  though 
it  is  some  years  since  we  met,  we  have  not 
. been  often  asunder.  And  so,  here  you  have 
been  sitting  these  twelve  hours  among  corpses, 
to  no  better  purpose  than  losing  your  time 
and  your  memory  together  !” 

I looked  round;  the  sun  was  in  his  meri- 
dian ! The  little  band  that  I had  led  to  the 
foot  of  the  mountain,  were  lying  dead,  to  a 
man. 

“ Are  you  not  a Roman !”  I exclaimed. 

“No;  but  1 conclude  that  nearly  as  much 
absurdity  and  mischief  may  be  committed 
under  these  trappings  as  under  any  other ; 
and  therefore  I wear  them.  But  you  may 
change  with  me  if  you  like.  This  cuirass 
and  falchion  will  help  you  to  money,  riot,  vio- 
lence, and  vice ; and  what  more  do  nine- 
tenths  of  mankind  ask  for  in  their  souls! 
Take  my  offer,  and  you  will  be  on  the  win- 
ning side  ; another  thing  that  men  like.  But 
be  expeditious;  for  before  this  sun  dips  his 
forehead  in  the  Asphaltites,  the  bloodshed  and 

14 


robbery  will  be  over.”  His  laugh,  as  he  ut- 
tered the  words,  was  bitterness  itself;  and  I 
felt  my  flesh  instinctively  shudder.  But  a 
glance  towards  the  Temple  told  me  that  the 
words  were  true.  The  legions  had  forced 
their  way  to  the  foot  of  the  third  and  weakest 
rampart,  which  I saw  flying  in  pieces  under 
the  blows  of  the  battering-rams.  They  must 
have  marched  by  the  very  spot  where  I sat 
since  midnight ; and  I probably  escaped  only 
by  being  taken  for  one  of  the  dead.  I wrung 
my  hands  in  agony.  He  burst  into  a wild 
roar  of  derision.  “ What  fools  you  lords  of 
the  creation  are  ! What  is  the  loss  of  life 
to  the  naked  wretches  that  you  see  running 
about  like  frightened  children  on  those  bat- 
tlements! or  to  the  clothed  wretches  that 
you  see  ready  to  massacre  them  for  the  honor 
and  glory  of  a better-clothed  wretch ! — a din- 
ner too  much  will  revenge  them  on  the  em- 
peror of  the  earth.  The  spear  or  the  arrow 
comes;  and  quick  as  thought  their  troubles 
are  at  end.  Man! — the  true  misery  is  to 
live,  and  be  constrained  to  live,  to  feel  the 
wants,  wearinesses,  and  weaknesses  of  life, 
yet  to  drag  on  existence ; to  be — what  I 
am.” 

He  tore  the  helmet  from  his  forehead,  and 
with  a start  of  inward  pain  flung  it  to  a mea- 
sureless distance  in  the  air.  In  amaze  and 
terror,  I beheld  Epiphanes ! The  same  Greek 
countenance,  the  same  kingly  presence,  the 
same  strength  and  heroic  stature,  and  the 
same  despair,  were  before  me,  that  in  the 
early  years  of  my  woe  I had  seen  on  the 
shores  of  the  Dead  Sea.  “ I told  you,”  said 
he,  with  a sudden  return  to  calmness,  “ that 
this  day  would  come.  And  to  tell  you  so,  re- 
quired no  spirit  of  prophecy.  There  is  a time 
for  all  things;  long-suffering  among  the  rest; 
and  your  countrymen  had  long  ago  come  to 
that  time.  But,  one  grand  hope  was  still  to 
be  given  ; they  cast  it  from  them  ! Ages  on 
ages  shall  pass,  before  they  learn  the  loftiness 
of  that  hope,  or  fulfil  the  punishment  of  that 
rejection.  Yet,  in  the  fulness  of  time,  shall 
the  light  break  in  upon  their  darkness.  They 
shall  ask,  Why  are  we  the  despised,  the 
branded,  the  trampled,  the  abjured  of  all  na- 
tions! Why  are  the  barbarian  and  the  civil- 
ized alike  our  oppressors!  Why  do  contend- 
ing faiths  join  in  crushing  us  alone ! Why 
do  realms  distant  as  the  ends  of  the  earth, 
and  diverse  as  day  and  night, — alike  those 
who  have  heard  our  history,  and  those  who 
have  never  heard  of  us  but  as  the  sad  so- 
journers of  the  earth, — unite  in  one  cry  of 
scorn  ! And  what  is  the  universal  voice  of 
nature,  but  the  voice  of  the  King  of  na- 
ture!” 

I listened  in  reverence  to  language  that 
pierced  my  heart  with  an  intense  power  of 
truth,  yet  with  a pang  that  made  me  writhe. 


204 


Salathiel. 


I longed,  yet  dreaded,  to  hear  again  the 
searching  and  lofty  accents  of  this  being  of 
unwilling  wisdom.  “Man  of  terrible  know- 
ledge,” said  1,  “ canst  thou  tell  for  what 
crime  this  judgment  shall  come?” 

His  mighty  brow  was  stooped  in  solemn 
fear,  and  his  features  quivered,  as  he  slowly 
spoke.  “ Their  crime  ! There  is  no  name 
for  it.  The  spirits  of  Heaven  weep  when 
they  think  of  it.  The  spirits  of  the  abyss 
tremble.  Man  alone,  the  man  of  Judea  alone, 
could  commit  that  horror  of  horrors.” 

He  paused  and  prostrated  himself  at  the 
words.  Then  rising,  rapidly  uttered — 
“ Judge  of  the  crime  by  its  punishment. 
From  the  beginning  Israel  was  stubborn,  and 
his  stubbornness  brought  him  to  sorrow.  He 
rebelled,  and  he  was  warned  by  the  captivity 
of  a monarch,  or  the  slaughter  of  a tribe.  He 
sinned  more  deeply,  for  he  was  the  slave  of 
impurity;  then  was  his  kingdom  divided; 
yet  a few  years  saw  him  powerful  once  more. 
He  sinned  more  deeply  still ; for  he  sought 
the  worship  of  idols.  Then  came  his  deeper 

{mnishment,  in  the  fall  of  his  throne,  and  the 
ong  captivity  of  his  people.  But  even  Baby- 
lon sent  back  the  forgiven  to  his  throne. 

“ Happy,  I say  to  you,  happy  will  be  the 
hour  for  Israel — for  mankind — for  creation  ; 
when  he  shall  take  into  his  hands  the  records 
of  his  fathers,  and  in  tears  and  prayers  ask — 
What  is  that  greater  crime  than  rebellion  ? 
than  blasphemy  1 than  impurity  ! than  idola- 
try ! which  not  seventy  years,  nor  a thousand 
ears  of  sorrow  have  seen  forgiven  ; which 
as  prolonged  his  woe  into  the  old  age  of  the 
world — which  threatens  him  with  a chain  not 
to  be  broken  but  by  the  thunder-stroke  that 
breaks  up  the  universe  !” 

“ And  still,”  said  I,  trembling,  and  subdued 
before  the  living  oracle — “still  is  there 
hope  1” 

“ Look  to  that  mountain,”  was  the  answer, 
as  he  pointed  to  Moriah.  Its  side,  covered 
with  the  legions  advancing  to  the  assault, 
shone  and  waved  in  the  sun  like  a tide  of 
burning  brass.  “ It  is  now  a sight  of  splendid 
evil !”  exclaimed  he.  “ But  upon  that  moun- 
tain shall  yet  be  enthroned  a Sovereign,  be- 
fore whom  the  sun  shall  hide  his  head,  and 
at  the  lifting  of  whose  sceptre  heaven  and 
the  heaven  of  heavens  shall  bow  down ! To 
that  mountain  shall  man,  and  more  than  man, 
crowd  for  wisdom  and  happiness.  From  that 
mountain  shall  light  flow  to  the  ends  of  the 
universe ; and  the  government  shall  be  to  the 
Everlasting.” 

The  roar  of  the  assault  began,  and  my 
awful  companion  was  recalled  to  the  world. 

“ I must  see  the  end  of  this  battle,”  said  he, 
in  his  old  mixture  of  sarcasm  and  melancholy. 
“Man’s  natural  talent  for  making  himself 
miserable  may  go  far,  but  he  is  still  the  better 


for  a teacher.  On  the  top  of  that  hill  there 
are  twenty  thousand  men  panting  for  each 
other’s  blood,  like  tigers;  and  yet  without 
me,  they  would  leave  the  grand  business  un- 
done after  all.” 

“ But  one  word  more,”  I cried,  giving  my 
last  look  to  the  tower  of  Antonia,  on  which 
the  eagle  now,  glittered. 

He  anticipated  me.  “ They  are  all  safe — 
they  are  in  the  hands  of  Septimius,  who  will 
deal  with  them  as  become  love  and  honor. 
He  solicited  the  command,  that  he  might 
provide  for  their  security.  They  comfort 
themselves  with  the  hope  that  you  will  return. 
But  return  you  will  never.  They  will  be 
happy  in  the  hope — until  sorrow  is  too  long 
shut  out  to  find  room  when  it  comes;  they 
love  you  and  will  love  you  long ; but  there 
is  an  end  of  all  things.  And  now  farewell.” 

“ And  now,  onward,”  said  I.  “ But  every 
spot  is  crowded  with  the  Roman  columns. 
How  am  I to  pass  those  spears  1” 

He  laughed  wildly,  flung  his  arm  round 
me,  as  of  old  ; and  ran,  with  the  speed  of  a 
stag,  round  the  foot  of  the  hill,  to  an  unob- 
structed side.  The  ascent  was  nearly  per- 
pendicular; but  he  bounded  up  the  crags 
without  drawing  a breath,  placed  me  on  a 
battlement,  and  was  gone. 

Below  me  war  raged  in  its  boundless  fury. 
The  enemy  had  forced  their  way ; and  the 
exasperated  Jews,  contemptuous  of  life,  fought 
them  with  the  rage  of  wild  beasts.  When 
the  lance  was  broke,  the  knife  was  the  wea- 
pon ; when  the  knife  failed,  they  tore  with 
their  hands  and  teeth.  Masses  of  stones, 
torches,  even  dead  bodies,  every  thing  that 
could  minister  to  destruction,  were  hurled 
from  the  roofs  on  the  assailants,  who  were 
often  repulsed  with  deadly  havoc.  But  they 
still  made  way ; the  courts  of  the  Gentiles, 
of  the  Israelites,  and  of  the  priests,  were  suc- 
cessfully stormed ; and  the  legions  at  length 
established  themselves  in  front  of  the  inner 
Temple.  A scream  of  wrath  and  agony  at 
the  possible  profanation  of  the  Holy  of  Holies, 
rose  from  the  multitude.  I leaped  from  the 
battlement,  and  showing  myself  to  the  peo- 
ple, demanded  “who  would  follow  me!” 
The  crowd  exulted  at  the  sight  of  their  well- 
known  chieftain  ; and  in  the  impulses  of  the 
moment  we  rushed  on  the  enemy,  and  drove 
them  from  the  court  of  the  sanctuary.  Start- 
led by  the  sudden  reverse,  the  Roman  gene- 
rals renewed  their  proposal  for  a surrender, 
and  Titus  himself,  at  the  most  imminent  haz- 
ard, forced  his  way  to  the  portal,  and  be- 
sought me  to  surrender  and  save  the  Tem- 
ple. 

But  Jerusalem  was  marked  for  ruin 
While  I was  in  the  very  act  of  checking  the 
shower  of  spears,  I heard  the  voice  of  one  of 
those  extraordinary  beings  who,  by  mad  pre- 


Salathiel. 


205 


dictions  of  the  certain  succor  of  Heaven,  kept 
up  the  resistance  while  there  was  a man  to 
be  slaughtered.  He  was  standing  on  the 
roof  of  a vast  cloister,  surrounded  by  a crowd 
of  unfortunate  men,  whom  his  false  prophecies 
were  infuriating  against  the  offer  of  life.  I 
recognized  the  impostor,  by  whom  the  Ro- 
man mission  had  been  destroyed.  The  le- 
gionaries pointed  in  vain  to  the  flames  already 
rising  round  the  cloisters.  But  the  predic- 
tions grew  bolder  still,  and  the  words  of  truce 
were  answered  by  showers  of  missiles.  The 
flames  suddenly  burst  out  through  the  roof; 
and  the  whole  of  its  defenders,  to  the  number 
of  thousands,  sank  into  the  conflagration. 
When  I looked  round  after  the  shock,  the 
impostor,  without  a touch  of  fire  on  his  rai- 
ment, was  haranguing  in  a distant  quarter, 
and,  man  or  fiend,  urging  the  multitude  to 
their  fate ! 

This  was  the  day  of  days,  the  ninth  day  of 
the  month  of  Ab,  the  anniversary  of  the  burn- 
ing of  the  Temple  by  the  king  of  Babylon. 
One  thousand  one  hundred  and  thirty  years 
seven  mont'hs  and  fifteen  days  were  past, 
from  its  foundation  by  our  great  King  Solo- 
mon! My  attack  had  repelled  the  legion- 
aries ; and  Titus,  exhausted  and  dispirited, 
began  to  withdraw  the  routed  columns  from 
the  front  of  the  Temple.  It  was  the  fifth 
hour:  the  sun  was  scorching  up  their 
strength;  and  I looked  proudly  forward  to 
victory  and  the  preservation  of  the  Temple. 

As  I was  standing  on  the  portal  of  the 
court  of  the  sanctuary,  and  gazing  at  the 
march  of  the  defeated  troops  towards  the 
tower  of  Antonia,  I heard  the  voice  of  the 
Demoniac  close  to  my  ear.  “ I told  you  that 
this  day  would  end  in  nothing  without  me.” 

I turned,  but  he  was  already  far  away  among 
the  crowd  ; and  before  I could  even  speak,  I 
saw  him,  torch  in  hand,  bound  into  the  Gold- 
en window  beside  the  vail  of  the  Holy  place. 
The  inner  Temple  was  instantly  in  a blaze. 
Our  cries,  and  the  sight  of  the  flames,  brought 
back  the  enemy  at  full  speed.  1 saw  that 
the  fatal  hour  was  come;  and,  collecting  a 
few  brave  rnen,  took  my  post  before  the  vail 
of  the  Portico,  to  guard  the  entrance  with  my 
blood. 

But  the  legions  rushed  onward,  crying  out, 
that  “ they  were  led  by  the  Fates,”  and  that 
“the  God  of  the  Jews  had  given  his  people 
and  city  into  their  hands.”  The  torrent  was 
irresistible.  Titus  rushed  in  at  its  head,  ex- 
claiming, that  “the  Divinity  alone  could  have 
given  the  strong-hold  into  his  power,  for  it 
was  beyond  the  hope  and  strength  of  man.” 
My  devoted  companions  were  torn  down  in 
an  instant.  I was  forced  back  to  the  veil  of 
the  Holy  of  Holies,  fighting  at  random  in  the 
midst  of  the  legionaries,  who  now  saw  no 
enemies  but  each  other.  In  the  fury  of  plun- 


der, they  deluged  the  Portico  and  the  Sanc- 
tuary with  mutual  blood. 

The  golden  table  of  Pompey,  the  golden 
vine,  trophies  of  Herod,  were  instantly  torn 
away.  Subordination  was  lost.  The  troops 
trampled  upon  their  officers.  Titus  himself 
was  saved  only  by  cutting  his  way  through 
those  madmen.  But  I longed  to  die ; and 
give  my  last  breath,  and  the  last  drop  of  my 
veins,  to  the  seat  of  Sanctity  and  Glory — I 
fought — I taunted — I heaped  loud  scorn  and 
reprobation  on  the  profaners — I was  covered 
from  head  to  foot  with  gore ; but  it  was  from 
the  hearts  of  Romans — I toiled  for  death;  but 
I remained  without  a wound.  Yet,  woe  to 
the  life  that  came  within  the  sweep  of  my 
scimetar.  The  last  blow  that  I struck  was 
at  an  impious  hand,  put  forth  to  grasp  the 
veil  that  shuts  the  Holy  of  Holies  from  the 
human  gaze.  The  hand  flew  from  the  body; 
and  the  spoiler  fell  groaning  at  my  feet.  He 
sent  up  an  expiring  look,  and  I knew  the 
countenance  of  my  persecutor,  Cestius. 

But  a new  enemy  was  come,  conqueror 
alike  of  the  victor  and  the  vanquished — fire. 

1 heard  its  roar  round  the  sanctuary.  The 
Romans,  appalled,  fled  to  the  portal ; but  they 
were  doomed..  A wall  of  fire  stood  before 
them.  They  rushed  back,  tore  down  the 
veil,  and  the  Holy  of  Holies  stood  open. 

The  blaze  melted  the  plates  of  the  roof,  in 
a golden  shower  above  me.  It  calcined  the 
marble  floor  ; it  dissipated  in  vapor  the  ines- 
timable gems  that  studded  the  walls.  All 
who  entered,  lay  turned  to  ashes.  So  perish 
the  profaners ! But  on  the  sacred  Ark  the 
flame  had  no  povver.  It  whirled  and  swept 
in  a red  orb  round  the  untouched  symbol  of 
the  throne  of  thrones.  Still  I lived ; but  I 
felt  my  strength  giving  way  : the  heat  with- 
ered my  sinews — the  flame  extinguished  my 
sight.  I sank  upon  the  threshold,  rejoicing 
that  death  was  inevitable.  Then,  once  again, 

I heard  the  words  of  terror  : “ Tarry  thou 
till  I come.”  The  world  disappeared  from 
before  me. 


Here  I pause.  I had  undergone  that  por- 
tion of  my  career  which  was  to  be  passed 
among  my  people.  My  life  as  a father,  hus- 
band, citizen,  was  at  an  end.  Thenceforth  I 
was  to  be  a solitary  man.  My  fate  had  yet 
scarcely  fallen  upon  me ; but  I was  now  to 
feel  it,  in  the  disruption  of  every  gentler  tie 
that  held  me  to  life.  I was  to  make  my  couch 
with  the  savage,  the  outcast,  and  the  slave. 
1 was  to  see  the  ruin  of  the  mighty,  and  the 
overthrow  of  empires.  Yet,  in  the  tumult 
that  changed  the  face  of  the  world,  I was  still 
to  live  and  be  unchanged.  Every  sterner 
passion  that  disturbs  our  nature  was  to  reign 


206 


Salathiel. 


in  successive  tyranny  over  my  soul.  And 
fearfully  was  the  decree  fulfilled. 

In  revenge  for  the  fall  of  Jerusalem,  I tra- 
versed the  globe  to  seek  out  an  enemy  of 
Rome.  I found  in  the  northern  snows  a man 
of  blood : I stirred  up  the  soul  of  Alaric,  and 
led  him  to  the  sack  of  Rome.  In  revenge 
for  the  insults  heaped  upon  the  Jew  by  the 
dotards  and  dastards  of  the  city  of  Constan- 
tine, I sought  out  an  instrument  of  compen- 
dious ruin  : I found  him  in  the  Arabian  sands, 
and  poured  ambition  into  the  soul  of  the  en- 
thusiast of  Mecca.  In  revenge  for  the  pollu- 
tion of  the  ruins  of  the  Temple,  I roused  the 
iron  tribes  of  the  west,  and  at  the  head  of  the 
crusaders  expelled  the  Saracens.  I fed  full 
on  the  revenge,  and  I felt  the  misery  of  re- 
venge ! 

A passion  for  the  mysteries  of  nature  seized 
me.  I toiled  with  the  alchemist ; I wore 
away  years  in  perplexities  of  the  schoolmen ; 
and  I felt  the  guilt  and  emptiness  of  unlawful 
knowledge ! 

A passion  for  human  fame  seized  me.  I 
drew  my  sword  in  the  Italian  wars:  tri- 
umphed ; was  a monarch ; and  learned  to 
curse  the  hour  when  I first  dreamed  of  fame! 

A passion  for  gold  seized  me.  I felt  the 
gnawing  of  avarice — the  last  infirmity  of  the 
fallen  mind.  Wealth  earne  to  my  wish  and 
to  my  torment.  In  the  midst  of  royal  trea- 
sures, I was  poorer  than  the  poorest.  Days 
and  nights  of  misery  were  the  gift  of  avarice. 


I felt  within  me — the  undying  worm.  In 
my  passion,  I longed  for  regions  where  the 
hand  of  man  had  never  rifled  the  mine.  I 
found  a bold  Genoese,  and  led  him  to  the  dis- 
covery of  a new  world.  With  its  metals  I 
inundated  the  old  ; and  to  my  own  misery, 
added  the  misery  of  two  hemispheres  ! 

But  the  circle  of  the  passions,  a circle  of 
fire,  was  not  to  surround  my  fated  steps  for 
ever.  Calmer  and  nobler  aspirations  were 
to  rise  in  my  melancholy  heart.  I saw  the 
birth  of  true  science,  true  liberty,  and  true 
wisdom.  I lived  with  Petrarch,  among  his 
glorious  relics  of  the  genius  of  Greece  and 
Rome.  1 stood  enraptured  beside  the  easel 
of  Angelo  and  Raphael.  I conversed  with 
the  merchant-kings  of  the  Mediterranean.  I 
stood  at  Mentz,  beside  the  wonder-working 
machine  that  makes  knowledge  imperishable, 
and  sends  it  with  winged  speed  through  the 
earth.  At  the  pulpit  of  the  mighty  man  of 
Wirtemberg,  I knelt;  Israelite  as  I was,  and 
am — I did  voluntary  homage  to  the  mind  of 
Luther! 

But  I must  close  these  thoughts,  as  wan- 
dering as  the  steps  of  my  pilgrimage.  I 
have  more  to  tell;  strange,  magnificent,  and 
sad. 

But  I must  wait  the  impulse  of  my  heart. 
Or,  can  the  happy  and  the  high-born,  tread- 
ing upon  roses,  have  an  ear  for  the  story  of 
the  Exile,  whose  path  has  for  a thousand 
years  been  in  the  brier  and  the  thorn  ! 


Salathiel. 


207 


As  there  is  room  here  for  a few  more  pages,  the  following  articles 
are  added.  They  possess  much  interest  in  connection  with  the 
singular  being  whose  history  is  given  in  the  foregoing  work. 

THE  MAGICIAN’S  VISITER. 

BY  HENRY  NEELE,  ESQ. 


It  was  at  the  close  of  a fine  autumnal  day, 
and  the  shades  of  evening1  were  beginning  to 
gather  over  the  city  of  Florence,  when  a low 
quick  rap  was  heard  at  the  door  of  Cornelius 
Agrippa,  and  shortly  afterwards  a stranger 
was  introduced  into  the  apartment  in  which 
the  philosopher  was  sitting  at  his  studies. 

The  stranger,  although  finely  formed,  and 
of  courteous  demeaner,  had  a certain  indefin- 
able air  of  mystery  about  him,  which  excited 
awe,  if,  indeed,  it  had  not  a repellent  effect. 
His  years  it  was  difficult  to  guess,  for  the 
marks  of  youth  and  age  were  blended  in  his 
features  in  a most  extraordinary  manner. 
There  was  not  a furrow  in  his  cheek,  or  a 
wrinkle  on  his  brow,  and  his  large  black  eye 
beamed  with  all  the  brilliancy,  and  vivacity 
of  youth ; but  his  stately  figure  was  bent,  ap- 
parently beneath  the  weight  of  years ; his 
hair,  although  thick  and  clustering,  was 
grey;  and  his  voice  was  feeble  and  tremu- 
lous, yet  its  tones  were  of  the  most  ravishing 
and  soul-searching  melody.  His  costume 
was  that  of  a Florentine  gentleman  ; but  he 
held  a staff  like  that  of  a palmer,  in  his  hand, 
and  a silken  sash,  inscribed  with  oriental 
characters,  was  bound  round  his  waist.  His 
face  was  deadly  pale  ; but  every  feature  of 
it  was  singularly  beautiful,  and  its  expression 
was  that  of  profound  wisdom,  mingled  with 
poignant  sorrow. 

“ Pardon  me,  learned  sir,”  said  he,  ad- 
dressing the  philosopher,  “ but  your  fame  has 
travelled  into  all  lands,  and  has  reached  all 
ears,  and  I could  not  leave  the  fair  city  of 
Florence  without  seeking  an  interview  with 
one  of  its  greatest  boasts  and  ornaments.” 

“ You  are  right  welcome,  sir,”  returned 
Agrippa;  “ but  I fear  that  your  trouble  and 
curiosity  will  be  but  ill  repaid.  I am  simply 
one,  who,  instead  of  devoting  my  days,  as  do 
the  wise,  to  the  acquirement  of  wealth  and 
honor,  have  passed  long  years  in  painful  and 
unprofitable  study,  in  endeavoring  to  unravel 
the  secrets  of  nature,  and  initiating  myself 
into  the  mysteries  of  the  occult  sciences.” 

“Talkest  thou  of  long  years  !”  echoed  the 
stranger,  and  a melancholy  smile  played  over 
his  features : — “ thou,  who  hast  scarcely  seen 
fourscore  since  thou  left’st  thy  cradle,  and 
for  whom  the  quiet  grave  is  now  waiting, 
eager  to  clasp  thee  in  her  sheltering  arms  ! I 
was  among  the  tombs  to-day — the  still  and 


solemn  tombs:  I saw  them  smiling  in  the 
last  beams  of  the  setting  sun.  When  I was 
a boy,  1 used  to  wish  to  be  like  the  sun  ; his 
career  was  so  long,  so  bright,  so  glorious. 
But  to-night  I thought  ‘ it  is  better  to  slumber 
among  those  tombs  than  to  be  like  him.’  To 
night  he  sank  behind  the  hills,  apparently  to 
repose,  but  to-morrow  he  must  renew  his 
course,  and  run  the  same  dull  and  unvaried 
but  toilsome  and  unquiet  race.  There  is  no 
grave  for  him,  and  the  night  and  morning 
dews  are  the  tears  that  he  sheds  over  his  ty- 
rannous destiny.” 

Agrippa  was  a deep  observer  and  admirer 
of  external  nature  and  of  all  her  phenomena, 
and  had  often  gazed  upon  the  scene  which 
the  stranger  described,  but  the  feelings  and 
ideas  which  it  awakened  in  the  mind  of  the 
latter  were  so  different  from  any  thing  which 
he  had  himself  experienced,  that  he  could 
not  help,  for  a season,  gazing  upon  him  in 
speechless  wonder.  His  guest,  however, 
speedily  resumed  the  discourse. 

“ But  I trouble  you,  I trouble  you  ; — to  my 
purpose  in  making  you  this  visit.  I have 
heard  strange  tales  of  a wondrous  mirror, 
which  your  potent  art  has  enabled  you  to  con- 
struct, in  Which  whosoever  looks  may  see 
the  distant  or  the  dead,  on  whom  he  is  de- 
sirous again  to  fix  his  gaze.  My  eyes  see 
nothing  in  this  outward  visible  world  which 
can  be  pleasing  to  their  sight.  The  grave 
has  closed  over  all  I loved.  Time  has  car- 
ried down  its  stream  every  thing  that  once 
contributed  to  my  enjoyment.  The  world  is 
a vale  of  tears,  but  among  all  the  tears  which 
water  that  sad  valley,  not  one  is  shed  for  me ; 
the  fountain  in  my  own  heart,  too,  is  dried 
up.  I would  once  again  look  upon  the  face 
which  I loved.  I would  see  that  eye  more 
bright,  and  that  step  more  stately  than  the 
antelope’s;  that  brow,  the  broad  smooth  page 
on  which  God  had  inscribed  his  fairest  char- 
acters. I would  gaze  on  all  I loved  and  all 
I lost.  Such  a gaze  would  be  dearer  to  my 
heart  than  all  that  the  world  has  to  offer  me 
— except  the  grave,  except  the  grave.” 

The  passionate  pleading  of  the  stranger 
had  such  an  effect  upon  Agrippa  (who  was 
not  used  to  exhibit  his  miracle  of  art  to  the 
eyes  of  all  who  desired  to  look  in  it,  although 
he  was  often  tempted  by  exorbitant  presents 
and  high  honors  to  do  so)  that  he  readily  con- 


208 


Salathiel. 


sented  to  grant  the  request  of  his  extraor- 
dinary visiter. 

“ Whom  wouldst  thou  see!”  he  inquired. 

“ My  child,  my  own  sweet  Miriam,”  an- 
swered the  stranger. 

Cornelius  immediately  caused  every  ray  of 
the  light  of  heaven  to  be  excluded  from  the 
chamber,  placed  the  stranger  on  his  right 
hand,  and  commenced  chanting,  in  a low  soft 
tone,  and  in  a strange  language,  some  lyrical 
verses,  to  which  the  stranger  thought  he  had 
heard  occasionally  a response,  but  it  was  a 
sound  so  faint  and  indistinct,  that  he  hardly 
knew  whether  it  existed  any  where  but  in 
his  own  fancy.  As  Cornelius  continued  his 
chant,  the  room  gradually  became  illuminated, 
but  whence  the  light  proceeded  it  was  im- 
possible to  discover.  At  length  the  stranger 
plainly  perceived  a large  mirror  which  cov- 
ered the  whole  of  the  extreme  end  of  the 
apartment,  and  over  the  surface  of  which  a 
dense  haze  or  cloud  seemed  to  be  rapidly 
passing. 

“Died  she  in  wedlock’s  holy  bands!”  in- 
quired Cornelius. 

“ She  was  a virgin  spotless  as  the  snow.” 

“ How  many  years  have  passed  away  since 
the  grave  closed  over  her?” 

A cloud  gathered  on  the  stranger’s  brow, 
and  he  answered  somewhat  impatiently — 
“ Many,  many ; more  than  I now  have  time 
to  number.” 

“ Nay,”  said  Agrippa,  “ but  I must  know. 
For  every  ten  years  that  have  elapsed  since 
her  death,  once  must  I wave  this  wand  ; and 
when  I have  waved  it  for  the  last  time,  you 
will  see  her  figure  in  yon  mirror.” 

“Wave  on,  then,”  said  the  stranger,  and 
groaned  bitterly  : “ wave  on,  and  take  heed 
that  thou  be  not  weary.” 

Cornelius  Agrippa  gazed  on  his  strange 
guest  with  something  of  anger,  but  he  ex- 
cused his  want  of  courtesy  on  the  ground  of 
the  probable  extent  of  his  calamities.  He 
then  waved  his  magic  wand  many  times,  but 
to  his  consternation,  it  seemed  to  have  lost 
its  virtue.  Turning  again  to  the  stranger,  he 
exclaimed : 

“Who,  and  what  art  thou,  man?  Thy 
presence  troubles  me.  According  to  all  the 
rules  of  my  art,  this  wand  has  already  des- 
cribed twice  two  hundred  years — still  has  the 
surface  of  the  mirror  experienced  no  altera- 
tion. Say,  dost  thou  mock  me,  and  did  no 
such  person  ever  exist  as  thou  hast  described 
to  me?” 

“ Wave  on,  wave  on  !”  was  the  stern  and 
only  reply  which  this  interrogatory  extracted 
from  the  stranger. 

The  curiosity  of  Agrippa,  although  he  was 
himself  a dealer  in  wonders,  began  now  to 
be  excited,  and  a mysterious  feeling  of  awe 
forbade  him  to  desist  from  waving  his  wand, 


much  as  he  doubted  the  sincerity  of  his  visiter. 
As  his  arm  grew  slack,  he  heard  the  deep 
solemn  tones  of  the  stranger  exclaiming, 
“ Wave  on,  wave  on  !”  and  at  length,  after 
his  wand,  according  to  the  calculations  of  his 
art,  had  described  a period  of  above  twelve 
hundred  years,  the  cloud  cleared  away  from 
the  surface  of  the  mirror,  and  the  stranger, 
with  an  exclamation  of  delight,  arose,  and 
gazed  rapturously  upon  the  scene  which  was 
there  represented. 

An  exquisitely  rich  and  romantic  prospect 
was  before  him.  In  the  distance  rose  lofty 
mountains  crowned  with  cedars ; a rapid 
stream  rose  in  the  middle,  and  in  the  fore- 
ground was  seen  camels  grazing  ; a rill  trick- 
ling by,  in  which  some  sheep  were  quenching 
their  thirst,  and  a lofty  palm-tree,  beneath 
whose  shade  a young  female  of  exquisite 
beauty,  and  richly  habited  in  the  costume  of 
the  East,  was  sheltering  herself  from  the  rays 
of  the  noontide  sun. 

“ ’Tis  she ! ’tis  she  !”  shouted  the  stranger ; 
and  he  was  rushing  towards  the  mirror,  but 
was  prevented  by  Cornelius,  who  said: 

“ Forbear,  rash  man,  to  quit  this  spot ! with 
each  step  that  thou  advancest  towards  the 
mirror,  the  image  will  become  fainter,  and 
shouldst  thou  approach  too  near,  it  will  vanish 
away  entirely.” 

Thus  warned,  he  resumed  his  station,  but 
his  agitation  was  so  excessive,  that  he  was 
obliged  to  lean  on  the  arm  of  the  philosopher 
for  support,  while,  from  time  to  time,  he  ut- 
tered incoherent  expressions  of  wonder,  de- 
light, and  lamentation.  “ ’Tis  she  ! ’tis  she  ! 
even  as  she  looked  while  living  ! How 
beautiful  she  is  ! Miriam,  my  child,  can’st 
thou  not  speak  to  me? — Oh  Heaven,  she 
moves  ! she  smiles  ! Oh  speak  to  me  a single 
word  ! or  only  breathe,  or  sigh  ! Alas ! all’s 
silent — dull  and  desolate  as  this  heart ! Again 
that  smile  ! — that  smile,  the  remembrance  of 
which  a thousand  winters  have  not  been  able 
to  freeze  up  in  my  heart!  Old  man,  it  is  in 
vain  to  hold  me  ! I must,  I will  clasp  her !” 

As  he  uttered  the  last  words,  he  rushed 
frantically  towards  the  mirror — the  scene 
represented  within  it  faded  away — the  cloud 
gathered  again  over  its  surface, — and  the 
stranger  sunk  senseless  on  the  earth. 

When  he  recovered  his  consciousness  he 
found  himself  in  the  arms  of  Agrippa,  who 
was  chafing  his.  temples  and  gazing  on  him 
with  looks  of  wonder  and  fear.  lie  imme- 
diately rose  on  his  feet,  with  restored  strength, 
and  pressing  the  hand  of  his  host,  he  said  : 
“Thanks,  thanks,  for  thy  courtesy  and  thy 
kindness,  and  for  thp  sweet  but  painful  sight 
which  thou  hast  presented  to  my  eyes.”  As 
he  spake  these  words,  he  put  a purse  into 
the  hands  of  Cornelius,  but  the  latter  returned 
it,  saying,  “ Nay,  nay,  keep  thy  gold,  friend. 


Salat  hid. 


209 


I know  not,  indeed,  that  a Christian  man  dare 
take  it ; but  be  that  as  it  may,  I shall  esteem 
myself  sufficiently  repaid  if  thou  will  tell  me 
who  thou  art.” 

“Behold!”  said  the  stranger,  pointing  to 
a large  historical  picture  which  hung  on  the 
left  hand  of  the  room. 

“ I see,”  said  the  philosopher,  “ an  exquisite 
work  of  art,  the  production  of  one  of  our  best 
and  earliest  artists,  representing  our  Saviour 
carrying  his  cross.” 

“ But  look  again !”  said  the  stranger,  fix- 
ing his  keen  dark  eyes  intently  on  him,  and 
pointing  to  a figure  on  the  left  hand- of  the 
picture. 

Cornelius  gazed,  and  saw  with  wonder 


what  he  had  not  observed  before — the  extra- 
ordinary resemblance  which  this  figure  bore 
to  the  stranger,  of  whom,  indeed,  it  might  be 
said  to  be  a portrait. 

“That.”  said  Cornelius,  with  an  emotion 
of  horror,  “ is  intended  to  represent  the  un- 
happy infidel  who  smote  the  divine  Sufferer 
for  not  walking  faster,  and  was  therefore 
condemned  to  walk  the  earth  himself,  until 
the  period  of  that  Sufferer’s  second  coming.” 

“ ’Tis  I ! ’tis  1 1”  exclaimed  the  stranger; 
and  rushing  out  of  the  house,  rapidly  disap- 
peared. 

Then  did  Cornelius  Agrippa  know  that  he 
had  been  conversing  with  The  Wandering 
Jew. 


'*®S§§gg§§^H> 

THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

FROM  THE  GERMAN. 

“ Doomed  for  a certain  time  to  walk.” 


When  our  Saviour,  bending  beneath  the 
weight  of  his  cross,  saught  to  obtain  a few 
moments  of  repose  on  the  door-steps  of  Sala- 
thiel,  the  Jew,  that  barbarous  man,  with  in- 
sulting language,  drove  Him  away,  who, 
struggling  to  continue  his  journey,  became 
overpowered  by  the  weight  of  his  cross,  fal- 
tered, and  fell  to  the  earth ; yet,  without  ut- 
tering a groan,  he  arose  again  and  went  on 
his  way.  The  Saviour  of  the  world,  condemn- 
ed to  death  by  man  ! and  made  to  carry  the  in- 
strument of  his  torture  on  his  back,  was  a 
sight  which  should  have  paled  the  cheek  of 
his  persecutors;  but  they  reviled — they  mock- 
ed him  ! 

The  avenging  angel  appeared  before  Sala- 
thiel,  and  said  : — “ Thou  hast  refused  a rest- 
ing place  to  the  son  of  man.  Cruel  wretch  ! 
All  rest  on  earth  shall  be  refused  to  thee  in 
return.  A dark  demon  let  loose  from  hell 
for  the  purpose,  shall  drive  thee  from  clime  to 
clime.  Salathiel,  even  the  hope  of  death, 
and  the  repose  of  the  tomb,  from  thee  shall 
be  withheld.”  These  words  were  hissed  into 
the  ear  of  the  Jew,  and  he  fell  upon  the  earth 
as  if  he  had  been  struck  by  lightning. 

Nearly  two  thousand  years  passed  away ; 
yet  Salathiel  was  still  pursued  by  a demon 
over  the  whole  face  of  the  earth.  One  day 
he  arrived  near  the  cavern  of  Mount  Carmel, 
and  shaking  the  dust  from  his  long  beard,  he 
took  a skull  from  a heap  of  human  bones  that  1 
were  piled  up  near  him,  and  threw  it  from 
the  mountain ; it  rolled  and  bounded,  and  j 
striking  against  the  rocks  below,  was  shiv- 1 


ered  to  pieces.  “ It  was  my  father’s,”  said 
Salathiel. 

My  parents,  my  friends  and  acquaintances; 
my  wife  and  my  children  all  perished.  Ah ! 
they  could  die;  but  I,  the  doomed,  cannot 
die.  The  judgment  of  heaven  frowns  over 
my  head — my  guilty  head — and  life,  which 
to  all  else  is  a blessing,  to  me  is  a curse.” 

“ Jerusalem  fell  by  the  Roman  power;  fire 
consumed  the  city ; palaces  crumbled  to  the 
ground,  and  the  temples  were  as  torches  to 
the  maddened  soldiery;  men,  women,  and 
children  were  butchered  ; all , all,  but  me 
alone.  I courted  every  danger,  defied  legions 
of  Romans  ; I rushed  upon  their  spears,  but 
an  invisible  hand  warded  their  points  from 
me ; and  I was  their  conqueror,  instead  of 
their  victim. 

“Rome  in  her  turn  tottered,  to  fall.  I 
rushed  to  her,  that  I might  be  buried  beneath 
her  ruins : the  Colossus  was  broken  and  pro- 
strated, but  it  could  not  crush  me,  though  the 
wise  and  the  great,  the  good  and  the  power- 
ful, were  all  destroyed  with  her. 

“Nations,  empires  and  kingdoms  rose  and 
fell  before  me : I alone  remained  alive.  Pes- 
tilence swept  over  the  land  : I snuffed  up  the 
tainted  breath  of  the  dying,  and  hugged  the 
dead  in  my  arms.  That  which  was  death  to 
all,  to  me  was  a narcotic.  I slept  in  the 
charnel  house,  and  awoke  refreshed.  Death 
passed  me  in  dread. 

“ An  avalanche  fell  through  the  air,  and 
swept  me  into  the  sea.  I thought  Death  had 
pitied  me,  and  I laughed  as  I was  carried 


210 


Salathiel. 


into  the  foamy  waters ; but  the  surges  threw 
me  back  again  on  the  shore,  and  the  poison- 
ous cup  of  human  existence  was  put  again, 
in  all  its  bitterness,  to  my  lips. 

“I  went  to  the  edge  of  the  crater  of  Etna, 
and  sprang  into  its  profound  abyss,  and,  howl- 
ing with  madness  and  despair,  fell  into  the 
burning  lava;  but  the  mountain  would  not 
grant  me  an  asylum  in  the  midst  of  its  con- 
suming bosom:  it  threw  me  up  again  upon 
this  sinful  earth;  and  though  the  flames  of 
the  eruption  set  fire  to  whole  districts  of 
country,  though  the  highest  spires  of  the 
greatest  cities  disappeared  beneath  the  liquid 
lava,  before  me  the  flame  and  the  lava  stayed 
their  work  of  destruction.  A forest  caught 
the  flames,— in  the  midst  of  delirium  and 
distraction,  I rushed  among  the  burning 
trees.  Hot  rosin  fell  drop  by  drop  upon  my 
scorching  limbs;  the  fire  raged  round  me; 
the  heat  dried  my  bones;  and  the  flames' 
tortured  me  with  their  hissing  fury.  Death 
brandished  his  scythe  over  me  : I bent  my 
head  to  receive  the  blow,  but  at  that  mo- 
ment he  caught  my  fixed  gaze,  and  fled  to 
destroy  the  good  and  the  happy.  Death  was 
no  longer  the  conqueror — he  feared  me." 

“ I joined  the  standards  of  the  mighty  war- 
riors of  the  earth, — the  desolators  of  the  land, 
the  conquering  heroes,  the  mighty  butchers 
of  the  human  race, — and  followed  them  in  all 
their  wars.  I sought  the  thickest  of  the 
fight,  where  blood  flowed  in  rivers,  where! 
men  were  swept  away  like  dry  sand  before) 
the  hurricane,  where  destruction  piled  hun- 
dreds upon  hundreds  ; yet  I was  left  alone  ! 

I braved  the  Gaul  and  the  Norman — I defied 
the  hordes  of  Germany  ; but  their  darts  and  j 
their  lances  broke  like  dry  reeds  against  my  j 
body.  The  Saracen’s  scimetar  was  shivered  ! 
to  pieces  when  it  struck  at  me.  Balls  struck 
against  me  like  hail,  and  rebounded  back  as! 
from  adamantine  rock.  Bayonet  points  were  j 
blunted  against  my  side.  The  powder-mine i 
exploded  beneath  my  feet,  and  hurled  all  but 
me  into  oblivion:  launched  into  the  air,  I fell 
back  to  the  earth  ; burnt  limbs  of  mortal  men 
lay  scattered  around  me.  I arose,  the  living 
from  the  dead,  and  a voice  bade  me  on— on 
— on,  forever. 

“ I wandered  to  the  deserts  of  Arabia  ; I 
joined  a caravan  journeying  to  the  holy  city 
■ — it  lost  its  way — hunger  and  thirst  tortured 
us,  and  put  a brand,  as  it  were,  of  hot  iron 
upon  our  lips.  My  companions  fell  around 
me  upon  the  burning  sand,  our  beasts  of  bur- 
den sank  to  rise  no  more,  the  simoom  blew 
its  poisoned  breath  over  the  parched  and  ver- 
dureless earth  ; the  sun’s  heat  dried  the  blood 
in  my  veins.  I did  not  die,  but  I suffered 
alive,  that  which  killed  my  fellow-travellers. 

“ The  elephant  trampled  me  under  his  feet ; 
the  tiger  gnawed  my  flesh  with  his  iron  teeth; 


the  anaconda  drew  his  mighty  folds  around 
my  limbs,  but  in  vain  did  they  mangle  me:  a 
voice  from  above  cried  1 Live,  Salathiel,  live  ! 
Pursue  thy  endless  journey.  On — on — on, 
forever!’  I cursed  that  voice,  and  laughter 
mocked  me — what  could  I do  against  the 
Eternal  1 

“ The  giant’s  club  has  been  broken  against 
my  head.  The  executioner’s  arm  has  been 
disjointed  in  his  efforts  to  end  my  existence. 
I have  insulted  despots  and  tyrants,  that  they 
might  give  me  death.  1 told  Nero  that  he 
was  a monster  ; Mahomet  that  he  was  an 
impostor;  the  Pope  th?ft  he  held  no  title  from 
heaven;  the  Inquisitor  that  his  hands  were 
red  with  the  blood  of  innocence  and  virtue— 
(hat  his  power  was  drawn  from  the  ignorance 
of  the  people,  and  he  was  the  most  ignorant ; 
I spat  upon  the  long  beard  of  the  Grand 
Master,  and  denied  in  his  presence,  the  exist- 
ence of  a God  ! The  tyrants  invented  new 
tortures : my  bones  cracked,  my  flesh  quiv- 
ered, but  the  blessing  of  death  was  with- 
held. 

“I  cannot  die — [ cannot  die — even  my  own 
hand  was  vainly  tried  to  extinguish  the  ever- 
lasting flame  that  burns  within  me.  Will 
there  never  be  any  rest  for  me  1 Oh  ! Thou 
who  hast  condemned  me  to  this  eternal  pain, 
hast  thou  still  more  tortures  to  inflict  1 See 
my  death-pale  face,  my  decrepid  limbs,  my 
mangled  body ! Oh  ! 1 am  tired  of  seeing 
that  never-ending  process  of  nature  which 
continually  brings  forth,  and  continually  de- 
vours. Jesus  of  Nazareth,  pardon  ! pardon  ! 
Thou  art  all  mercy — at  least  thy  prophets 
preach  it  to  the  world  ; have  mercy  then  on 
me.  What  is  the  life  of  a worm  to  thee] 
Spurn  me  out  of  the  way:  crush  me — kill  me;” 
and  Salathiel  fell  with  his  face  to  the  earth, 
and  for  the  first  time  shod  a flood  of  tears. 

“ Salathiel,  Salathiel  !”  exclaimed  a voice. 
Salathiel  raised  his  head,  and  saw  the  angel 
of  death  before  him.  “ Salathiel !”  continued 
the  angel,  “ He  has  obtained  repose  for  t nee 
from  his  father.  Close  now  thine  eyes,  rest. 
Sleep  until  the  day  of  judgment.  He  will 
then  call  up  all  men  from  the  dead,  but  tea  : 
not;  the  anger  of  God  is  not  eternal.  For 
though  thou  didst  spurn  his  holy  son  with  thy 
foot,  and  did  rejoice  to  see  the  blood  shed  at 
Golgotha,  He  has  pardoned  thee!” 

A strain  of  heavenly  music  came  down,  as 
it  were,  from  the  skies ; the  air  was  per- 
fumed with  the  fragrance  of  unseen  flowers ; 
a stillness  as  of  death  followed  the  hirmo- 
nions  sounds,  and  a feeling  of  joy  nnfelt 
before,  came  over  the  senses  of  the  bruised 
and  crushed  Salathiel.  Earth  now  looked 
beautiful:  the  curse  was  removed.  He  was 
told  to  close  his  eyes  and  sleep ; he  obeyed. 
It  was  the  sleep  of  death.  The  Wandering 
Jew  was  called  home. 


